The More Things Change
by Random1377
Summary: Years after the Raccoon incident, Jill Valentine has returned to the life she used to know. But now, everything is about to change, as she comes to realize no one is ever truly free of Umbrella.
1. Just Hanging Around

Disclaimer: all the characters, settings, and nasty slimy icky monsters in the game and book series _Resident Evil_ are owned exclusively by Capcom Corporation.  They are being used here without permission, but with the hope that Capcom understands that this is a purely not-for-profit piece of work, and will be removed from the web should they require it. Thank you.

The More Things Change…

By Random1377

Part 1 – Just Hanging Around

Twenty feet off the ground, suspended upside down by a thin nylon cord and a heartfelt prayer, Jill Valentine decided that this was definitely not a good time to lose her cool.  "Tell me again why I took this stupid job," she muttered into the small mic on her collar.

"Because there was a lot of money involved," the voice of Carlos Olivera crackled in her ear, "and because you're the best."

"Don't try to butter me up, you're still making the delivery," Jill grumbled, reaching carefully into the pouch attached to her belt and extracting a second diamond-alloyed drill bit, "and money isn't everything."

"Never said it was, _chica_," Carlos replied, his voice betraying his smile, "but it sure goes a long way towards putting food on the table and cars in the garage."

"I guess," Jill sighed, removing the shattered remains of the initial bit from her compact drill and fitting its replacement in with a grunt of effort, "now shut up and let me work."

"You're the boss."

Jill hesitated, considering the suspended safe for a moment with a small frown.  _The boss,_ she thought, _never thought I would be The Boss – just a simple soldier, doing what I'm told… yeah, that's what I should be, right?_

"Guess there's no use whining about it now," she shrugged, clicking the drill on and pressing it against the safe's 'sweet spot' – the space between the keypad and the hand crank, where no circuits or gears resided.

The whine of the bit as it chewed into the thick metal set her teeth on edge, but there was nothing to be done about it.  Sure, there were other methods of cracking this type of safe – but Jill was in a hurry, both for the extraction deadline her client had given her and the guard-sweeping timeframe she had established last week when she had cased the plush mansion whose skylight she was currently hanging from.

_Kind of a long way from S.T.A.R.S. now, aren't you?_ she thought sarcastically, _But I guess it's true what they say – once a thief, always a thief… right Dad?_

Her father, she decided, would have been proud.  Not many could find a way into Douglas Delatet's mansion without his say-so, and fewer still would have had the skill to spot the location of his cleverly concealed safe, tucked neatly into a corner near the dining room chandelier and hidden by a thick, hanging Persian rug.

Of course, Jill was not most people – even before she joined the Special Tactics and Rescue Squad in the rural town of Raccoon city.  Her father had trained her in all manners of thievery, ensuring that she could steal just about anything that she needed to, if she was so inclined.  After joining S.T.A.R.S., she had promised herself (in a rather super-hero-ish way, she decided later) that she would only use her skills for good.  And she still stuck to this creed.

Well, most of the time.

"Oooo, I heard that from here!" Carlos cackled in her ear as a sharp crack filled the air.  "You in, _chica_?"

"Of course," Jill said modestly, "you know, for all this guy's money, you'd think he could afford a better safe."

"Maybe he thought the security system was enough," Carlos retorted, "or the armed guards, or the dogs, or the pressure-sensitive floor, or the poison gas dispensers."

Jill hesitated in the process of slipping a slender fiber optic camera through the hole the drill had made.  "There's poison gas dispensers?"

Carlos laughed.  "Gotcha!"

"_Very_ funny," Jill muttered, slipping the camera in and pulling out a small flat screen monitor, "now be quiet."

A small joystick next to the screen allowed her to manipulate the miniature arm just under the camera, guiding it towards a series of metallic fingers on the back of the safe's door and letting her pull them, one by one, out of place.

"Movement!" Carlos's voice hissed in her ear.  "Looks like Doug in the mood for some OJ – he's heading towards the kitchen."

"Damn it," Jill muttered, "how long?"

Carlos paused.  "Ummm… four minutes, if he walks slow."

"So, three minutes."

"Sounds right, yeah."  
  


"Super."

Jill took a deep breath, keeping her attention on the small screen as another of the small fingers loosened.  "Any way you can distract him?" she muttered, "Call and pretend it's a wrong number?  Play ding-dong-ditch?  Anything?"

"Sorry _chica_," Carlos replied regretfully, "he has an answering service so the phone never rings past 11:00 unless it's an emergency, and by the time I moved the van close enough to ring the bell at the front gate, he'd be offering you a sandwich."

"Got it open," Jill whispered tensely, "pulling the goods now… God – this is going to be close!"

"Easy, _chica_…"

Jill nodded, keeping silent as she heard the approaching _slap slap_ of slippers on marble.  _Ok, got what I came for… now…_

Douglas Delatet, a broad, swarthy man with a strong chin and thick, iron gray hair, strode through the massive dining room with an air of one entirely bored with life.  At 44, he had already conquered all that had been thrown at him.  He had climbed Mount McKinley, swum with sharks, bought and sold several very lucrative businesses – to enormous profit – and traded in a 38 year old nag for a 20 year old model.

And that was just this year.

"Hope you understand it was always business," he chuckled, wondering idly what his third wife (the nag) was doing for shelter.  "Hey," she shrugged to himself, giving a cursory glance to the Persian hanging from the third floor railing, "I offered a good little chunk of cash… shouldn't have gotten greedy.  Stupid bitch."

He stopped short, his lips compressing into a thin line as he squinted up into the darkness.  Wasn't the rug just a little… off?  Not a lot, but just the tiniest bit off-center, as if it had been thrown back, then hastily dropped into place.  He took a step closer, his hands clenching into fists as he scanned the entire area.

_Skylight's closed,_ he thought grimly, shooting a glance at a control panel on the wall, _floor's still set to my weight… windows are all shut… security's all green…_

He rolled his shoulders and looked at the rug.  "Getting old," he muttered, continuing his trek towards the kitchen.

Even had he been standing with his ear pressed to the ceiling, he probably would have missed the soft, but quick padding of retreating footsteps as they lightly dashed across the roof, and he definitely would not have heard the soft whispering 'hiss' of gloved hands sliding down a waiting rope to the ground below.

No, had he not found himself suddenly occupied with other matters, it would have been many hours before Douglas would realize that he had, in fact, been robbed, and by that time, the papers in his small safe were halfway to a very secure location in France, the fee for their delivery paid in full.

Of course, had Jill not been under strict orders to leave the manila envelope's seal intact, she might have spotted the small, red and white octagon on the papers… and the call that came through to her small office the next morning might have had a very different tone.

**

"Call for you, Boss," Carlos called, holding the phone out with one hand and lifting the magazine centerfold closer to his eyes, scrutinizing it closely with an appreciative whistle.

"News should be on in about five," Jill commented as she strode into the main office of the Heart's Found Reclamation Agency, absently blowing on a steaming mug of coffee.  "Turn on the TV… let's see if we made the first broadcast."  She lifted the phone to her ear.  "Hello, Julie Heart."

She was afforded a moment of thought as the caller on the other end of the line drew a sharp breath.  _Can't wait to get back to using my real name, _she thought, her eyes idly scanning the magazine Carlos was reviewing, _man, how long has it been since someone's said-_

"Hello, Jill."

Carlos scrambled to his feet as Jill's cup of coffee poured across his magazine.  "Hey, hey!!  Watch it!!"

Jill did not hear him.  All of her attention was focused on the voice at the other end of the line… a voice reaching out from the past she had tried so hard to free herself from and pulling her slowly, inexorably back.  "You must have the wrong number," she said faintly, "this is the Heart-"

"Heart," the voice cut in smoothly, "Valentine… clever, Jill, but you had to know I would be able to find you."

"I never tried to stop you," Jill countered, ignoring Carlos's questioning stare, "it wasn't you I was hiding from."

"You hiding at all still gets me," the man chuckled, "I thought you weren't scared of anything."

Jill closed her eyes and leaned against the desk.  "Lots of things scare me, Chris… but I'm not hiding from them, I just don't want to be bothered by newspapers and TV stations begging for an interview with a fallen S.T.A.R."

"Cute," Chris Redfield's voice snorted, "but you know… there are other people that wouldn't mind finding you."

"Umbrella's gone," Jill said coolly, "has been for over a year – don't you read the stock reports?  They're belly-up, Redfield... why don't you just let it go?"

Chris sighed.  "I know you're not that naïve," he said sadly.

Jill's nostrils flared – if there was one word she absolutely could not stand, it was naïve.  "What do you want?"

"That mark you just hit," Chris said all-too-casually, "did you do your homework?"

"Always," Jill returned, feeling no real surprise that Chris knew what she was doing.  If he was good enough to find her in the first place, he was good enough to keep track of what she was up to.  "Ex-Umbrella… left the company right before the murders in Raccoon and went into real estate."

"You watching the news?"

Jill felt a chill wash over her at the change in her former teammate's tone.  "Y-yeah," she said uncomfortably.  "Why?"

"Watch," Chris said softly, "I'll bet it made top story."

Jill nodded to Carlos.  "Turn it up," she said quietly, covering the mouthpiece on the phone with her palm.  "Why would a simple burglary…" her voice froze in her throat as the news anchor came on the air.

"Our top story tonight," the lead man announced after a perfunctory introduction, "is the brutal slaying of local real estate magnate, Douglas Delatet and his wife, Victoria Delatet, in an apparent home invasion incident."

"What?!" Jill gasped, her eyes widening as the news shifted to a live shot of Delatet's mansion.  The front window had been shattered – seemingly from the inside out – and even from the street, the dark red of arterial blood could be seen on the sill.

"I'm standing outside the spacious Delatet estates," the newsman reported, his face grim and somber, "where local businessman and philanthropist Douglas Delatet and his wife of three months, Victoria Delatet, have met with a most untimely demise.  Details are sketchy at this time, but it seems that sometime around four this morning, an intruder broke into the estate and confronted Mister Delatet in his kitchen, overpowering and killing him before making their way to the master bedroom, where Misses Delatet lay asleep… and murdering her as well.  At this time, there is no evidence that anything has been stolen, and the motive for the murders remains… a mystery."  The newsman looked more somber than ever as the camera refocused on him.  "Needless to say, this is a terrible loss to the community, as…"

"Impossible," Jill whispered as the man rambled on, outlining Delatet's many humanitarian efforts, "I was _there_ at four!  My partner saw him heading towards the kitchen!  There's no way he would have missed-" 

"Shh," Chris cut in suddenly, "look at the security guards."

Jill frowned, squinting at the TV as the camera panned once more over the ruined front window of the estate, showing a small contingent of black-clad security officers, clearly doing their best to prevent their deceased employer any further embarrassment.  "I don't see-" Jill hissed sharply as one of the guards happened to glance towards the camera, a look of unearthly calm on his sunglass-hidden face.

"Wesker."

There was no mistaking the man's broad shoulders and sharp, pointed chin – and even through the television, Jill could see the small, ever-present smirk the man seemed to wear, as if he was saying, 'You're all beneath me… you're all pathetic.'

"Delatet wasn't former Umbrella," Chris whispered grimly, "he was _current_ Umbrella.  I've recently gotten information from a reliable source that says that not only was he _in_ Raccoon up until the last day – he was actually in Arkalay _when we were!_"

Jill sat down hard, all of the strength draining from her legs like water.

"Looks bad," Carlos said suddenly, nodding to the television.

"God, of course…" Jill whispered, half tired, half disgusted as her old S.T.A.R.S. picture was displayed onscreen.

"Police believe this woman," the anchorman was saying, his tone becoming disapproving and stern, "Jill Valentine, formerly of the disgraced, Special Tactics and Rescue Squad, is involved somehow.  The police are basing this information on an anonymous tip received by phone at-"

"Turn it off," Jill said quietly, "just… turn it off."

Carlos reached over and snapped off the television, then leaned back against the desk and waited for further instruction.

In the ensuing silence, Chris murmured, "I'm coming to pick you up, Jill… can you still trust me to save you?"

"I can trust _me_ to save me," Jill replied without venom, "but yeah… I wouldn't mind a hand this time."

Chris sighed deeply.  "Ten minutes," he said coolly, "gather whatever you need – but definitely bring your bag of tricks."

Before Jill could ask why, the line went dead.

"Good thing you don't look like that anymore," Carlos said after a long moment of quiet, nodding to the woman's bleach-blonde hair, "should give us a _little_ edge."

Jill let out a gusty breath.  "Oh they know right where we are," she said tiredly, "otherwise they wouldn't have put my face on TV – they would have just said they had a lead.  No, they're hoping we'll panic and lead them to our buyer."

"Or maybe they're just playing with _you_, _chica_," Carlos said seriously, "my face wasn't up there."

For this, Jill had no reply.

**

Precisely nine minutes later, Jill and Carlos were standing outside Heart's Found's front door, looking for anything out of the ordinary as they counted down the seconds until Chris's arrival.  "Man on the corner with a newspaper," Jill whispered, moving her lips as little as possible, "woman with a baby stroller…"

Carlos nodded.  "Hot dog vendor," he chuckled, shaking his head, "it's funny how they think we wouldn't notice these people standing around on a side street that's almost always empty. 

"They know we know," Jill said calmly, "and they can probably hear us."

"Hola," Carlos said easily, nodding to the hot dog vendor – though the man _should_ have been well out of earshot.  "I'll take two with everything."

"I'm not hungry," Jill said dryly, spotting a black Nissan Pathfinder making its way down the street.

"I wasn't offering," Carlos replied.

"Pig."

"Puta."

"Hey, that's just uncalled for," Jill muttered, nodding to the woman behind the wheel of the Pathfinder as she guided it to a halt.

"D'you call for a taxi, ma'am?" the woman asked quietly.

"Sure did, we-" Jill cut herself off as recognition set in.  "Claire…?"

The woman behind the wheel nodded, but did not smile.  "It's been a while, Miss Valentine."

Carlos stepped forward and opened the back hatch, leaving the two women to talk as he hefted a pair of dufflebags into the SUV.

"You look good," Jill offered after a moment's hesitation.

"I don't feel so hot," Claire countered smoothly, "see, I've got this poison in my blood, courtesy of a certain pharmaceuticals company," she shot a dark look at the man with the newspaper, "and no matter what I do, I can't seem to get rid of it.  We've found some medication to keep it in check… but we can't get it to go away entirely."

Jill's jaw clenched.  "I'm sorry to hear that," she said honestly, trying to reconcile her memory of a smiling, carefree teen, laughing and flirting with the other S.T.A.R.S. at a Raccoon City Police Department Christmas party… with this grim-faced young woman with eyes that refused to stay focused on one thing for more than a few seconds.

_Five years,_ Jill thought suddenly, _how did she get so old so fast??_

"Chris told me to try and get you to leave your friend," Claire said softly, her eyes flicking to Carlos as the man slammed the hatch and brushed the dust off his hands, "but I'm not going to waste my breath."

"Good plan," Jill nodded, "so… how are we going to give our little friends here the slip?"

For the first time since arriving, Claire smiled.  It did not make Jill feel comfortable.

"You'll see.  Get in."

Jill nodded as the younger woman rolled up the power window.  "You can stay behind if you want," Jill said as Carlos came around the back of the vehicle to stand by her side, "I'm sure the road I'm about to head down isn't going to be smooth… and it wouldn't be that hard for you to go underground if you wanted to."

"And miss the fun?" Carlos grinned.  "No, _chica_, I promised to protect you, remember?"

"That was a long time ago," Jill pointed out quietly, "and we were… closer then – you don't owe me anything anymore."

Carlos pulled the back door of the Pathfinder open and gestured for Jill to get in, bowing slightly as he whispered, "It was never about owing, Jill… and even though we're not together like_ that_, I'm still behind you no matter what."

"Thanks."

They climbed into the SUV, Jill in front, Carlos in back, and buckled their seatbelts.  "You ready?" Claire asked, shifting the car into drive and hitting the door lock.

"No, but go anyway," Jill replied, giving Heart's Found one last look, "before I start getting nostalgic."

Claire nodded, edging the Pathfinder away from the curb and casting a quick glance at the three ill-concealed agents on the sleepy street.  "Sit tight," she said lightly, "this will only take a second."

Jill's jaws dropped open as Claire hit a button on the steering wheel and a small heads up display blinked into existence on the windshield, displaying the street in a grid-like pattern, with glowing red targets corresponding to the agent's locations.

"A one," Claire whispered, "and a two... and a shoobity doo!"

Abruptly, the sound of gunfire erupted from the top of the Pathfinder, breaking the quiet of the street like a brass band in a library.  Tires squealed as Claire hammered the gas pedal to the floor, sending the vehicle barreling forward as the three agents dropped to the ground.

"You… you killed them??" Jill sputtered.  "Claire, they were just innocent pol-"

"No one is innocent," Claire cut in smoothly, clicking another button on the steering wheel, "and no, I didn't kill them… just scared the hell out of them."

Jill's response was lost to amazement as the Pathfinder rounded the corner… and changed color.  "What the…?"

"Chameleon paint," Claire grinned, hitting a third button, "and now the finishing touch."

Small whirring sounds issued from the top, front, and sides of the car, and as they reached the next corner, Jill realized that they were now traveling in a maroon Xterra.

"Damn!"

Carlos's exclamation summed Jill's feelings up rather succinctly.  _And we're on our way,_ she thought, suddenly feeling very old, _just when I thought I could sit down and relax… it's time to start running…_

"We _should_ be ok," Claire said after a moment, "But we'll change the car again in a mile or two, just to be sure."

Jill just nodded, leaning back in her seat and watching the scenery roll past.  _Chris,_ she thought tiredly, _do you look as hard as your sister?  God, what am I getting myself into?_ Finding that she had no answers, Jill simply sat back and waited, hoping that whatever her old teammate had planned was not _too_ extravagant.

She never would have been able to guess.

Continued…

Author's notes: well, I've wanted to do a Resident Evil fic for some time, but I never really had a good plot idea for one until I read (somewhere or other – probably the Nemesis novel) that Jill used to be a thief before becoming a S.T.A.R.S. member, and I immediately thought, 'hey, once a thief, always a thief,' and bingo – I had a plot line.  I plan to make this somewhere between 5 and 10 chapters, roughly 10 pages each.  I know that's a pretty big range, but I'm honestly not quite sure how long it will take me to describe everything I want to describe, so I figure I'll leave myself open to options. :P

One last note: I was going to title this fic, _Once a Thief,_ but I found (much to my disappointment) that there is already a fic on fanfiction.net called _Once a Thief, Always a Thief,_ by an author named Aran, and while the subject matter is pretty different (as far as I can tell, I haven't really read it all yet) I still felt I should change the name to avoid confusion and hurt feelings/thrown objects.  _

Pre-read on this chapter was courtesy of Adiabatik, a much more dedicated Evil fan than myself, and a damn good author.  Big thanks, _chica._  ^_~

Feedback is always welcome at random1377@yahoo.com or any site this story is posted on that has the ability to accept reviews.


	2. Hail, Hail, the Gang's All Here

Disclaimer: see part 1 for disclaimer.

The More Things Change…

By Random1377

Part 2 – Hail, Hail, the Gang's All Here

Rebecca Chambers sighed.  "Would you stop pacing around?" she murmured, "You're making me dizzy."

"Deal with it," came the gruff response, "They're late – we should try calling them!"

"You know that would give away our position," Chris said calmly, tipping his chair up and leaning it against the small room's back wall, "and theirs.  We wait."

Leon Kennedy, the pacer, threw himself down in one of the other chairs situated around the table in the center of the room and rested his elbows on its rough, wooden surface.  "It's been too long," he said plaintively, "we should just do the mission like we planned at first – get it done!"

"Easy kid," Barry Burton's voice rumbled from the doorway, "Billy says he can see them coming down the driveway."  He tilted his head to the side, pressing the walkie-talkie's earpiece further into his ear.  "Looks like they weren't followed, either."

Leon's shoulders slumped with relief.  "Thank God…"

_I doubt God had much to do with it,_ Rebecca thought cynically, _maybe that monster car Billy 'acquired,' but not God – no, he hates us… or he wouldn't have made it so we're the only ones that care._

Chris let his chair rock forward, the feet hitting the dirt floor with a muffled thump.  "We need Jill," he said firmly, "we need this plan.  We need to get along, and we need to make sure no one screws up."  He met Leon's eyes.  "We _will_ succeed, alright?  One way or another, we will make sure this mission happens _our_ way."

Leon opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, Barry stepped to the side, giving a brief nod of greeting to the four people coming into the hideout.  "About damn time!"

Claire gave him a blank stare.  "I'd say something about getting caught in traffic," she said flatly, "but I don't want to be cliché, so I'll just stick with 'up yours.'"

Rebecca shook her head, pretending she could not see the sparks flying between the two, and instead turned to the newcomers.  "Jill," she said neutrally, still unsure of how the other S.T.A.R.S. woman felt about the current situation.  "I'm glad to see you."

Jill, she decided, looked a little relieved herself.  "Rebecca," she said softly, eyeing Claire and Leon as they continued to stare each other down, "I'm glad to see you too."

"Let's get all the 'missed yous' out of the way, shall we?" Chris said calmly, "most of us here know each other, but just so everyone's clear, let's have introductions."

"Jill Valentine," Jill said immediately, "Ex-S.T.A.R.S."

The man at her side raised a hand. "Carlos Olivera, Ex-U.B.C.S."

This introduction earned him several sharp looks, but everyone seemed to be willing to let it go.

For the time being, anyway.

"Barry Burton," Barry broke the uncomfortable silence that had fallen, "S.T.A.R.S.  Yeah, I know S.T.A.R.S. is out of business… but I'll be a star until I die."

"Chris Redfield.  Same."

"Rebecca Chambers… guess it goes for me too."

"Leon Kennedy," Leon muttered, finally breaking eye contact with Claire, "RCPD."

"Claire Redfield," Chris's sister whispered, "Umbrella killer."

"Billy Cohen," the heavily tattooed man said easily, "Rebecca Chambers' lover."

"Former," Rebecca corrected levelly, "former lover, former soldier, former convict, former-" 

"Ok," Chris cut in, "we're getting off track."  He glanced around the room, meeting everyone's eyes to ensure that he had their attention.  "Alright," he said finally, "we all have bad pasts, we're all very tired, and each of us has a reason to dislike at least one of the others… but I brought you all here because we have something we need to take care of."  He gestured to the center of the room.  "Leon?"

Wearily, the former police officer stepped forward, still avoiding Claire's eyes.  "We've found a rather large underground lab in Wyoming," he said slowly, "it's dedicated to the study of the T, G, T-Veronica viruses."  He waited for the sharp hisses of shock to fade away before concluding, "We don't have any backing… we don't have any support… we're low on funds… and, if you all agree, this is our entire team – but we plan to shut it down.  Permanently."

"So we're killing ourselves," Jill said after a moment of quiet, "yeah, I think I'll pass."

"Before you decide," Chris said smoothly, "I want to make you an offer."

"I doubt I'll care that much," Jill countered, "but go ahead… I'm still thinking of where to go and what to change my name to."

"I've been keeping track of your career," Chris said slowly, "and I've noticed… that almost all of the jobs you take involve either stealing something that's already been stolen, or stealing something from former Umbrella employees."

"We all have our preferences," Jill said dryly, "I watched a lot of Saint Tail as a kid."

"Very funny," Chris countered, "but I want to make sure you know the payoff for doing this j-"

"It's not about money," Jill cut in, turning for the door, "come on Carlos, let's get out of here."

As she started to walk away, Claire's voice cut through the silence.  "They took something away from us," she whispered, "something that can never be replaced."  There was another moment of silence.  "Her name is Sherry – and I want her back."

**

Jill came up short.

"She's important to us all," Leon said quietly, still avoiding Claire's accusing stare, "can you help us, Miss Valentine?"

After what seemed like an eternity, Jill said, "Sherry… Birkin?"

"You know her?" Chris asked curiously.

"I saw the name on an expense report signed by Chief Irons," Jill murmured, "she was supposed to be treated like a celebrity – big money changed hands to make sure she was given the very best if she ever came to visit her daddy's apartment in Raccoon – but I never knew anything about her."

"She'd be about sixteen now," Claire said, taking a step towards Jill and shooting Leon a withering glance, "and I want her back."

From her expression, it was clear to Rebecca that Jill did not quite understand all the undercurrents in the room – especially the one between Claire and Leon… but things had changed.

Now an innocent's life was at stake.

"How do you know she's there?" Jill asked slowly, "And how do you know the lab exists at all?  I doubt Umbrella has signs saying 'hey, immoral research going on here' lying around the countryside."

"That's where it get complicated," Barry spoke up, "it seems… that it's not an Umbrella installation at all – it's owned by a company named HCF."

"Umbrella's main competition in biotech," Jill mused, "and I'm guessing they're just a bad as Umbrella?"

"Worse," Chris said seriously, "and… Wesker works for them now."  He gave this a moment to sink in before adding, "We got the tip about the base's location from a crossover employee – former Umbrella, now HCF… but really S.T.A.R.S.  He's been undercover for the past 4 years."

"Anyone I know?" Jill asked coolly, "Or rather – anyone I'd trust?"

"The man's name is Nick Ambrose," Chris said, "he's-"

"He was one of my teachers when I was in training," Rebecca piped up suddenly, "you could have mentioned that before – I'm definitely in now."

Jill gave her a bemused look.  "I thought you'd be all over this."

"Hey," Rebecca countered, "I have a life now too, you know… and I'm not all that keen on dying – but I promised to hear Chris out, and if Nick's in, I'm in."

"So that just leaves you," Chris observed, nodding to Jill, "and your companion."

"Hey," Carlos shrugged, grinning broadly, "I'm just a wheelman now… whatever the boss says goes."

Rebecca assessed the man, taking in his thickly muscled chest and arms, replete with a number of small scars, and his smiling, but attentive eyes.  _Oh you're not just a driver,_ she thought confidently, _Raccoon may have gone down five years ago, but you've been keeping yourself busy, I'd think._

From the expressions on the other's faces, she could tell that they were all thinking the same.  "So," she said abruptly, "like I said, I'll do it… how about you, Jill?  One last time… the last of the old team… fighting the good fight?"  She held out her hand.  "What do you say?"

Jill considered the outstretched hand for a long minute.  "Sixteen, huh?" she whispered, slowly reaching out and taking Rebecca's hand.  "Yeah… I'll do it – but if I find out this is all a sham to get me to-"

"Jill," Chris cut in quietly, "you know me better than that."

"I used to know you, Chris," Jill said softly, "but I'll tell you honestly… your little crusade to rid the world of evil has changed you – for the better in some ways, but still, you're not the man you used to be."

"Guess I can live with that," Chris mused, "but this is all on the up and up, Jill – I wouldn't have called you in if it wasn't.  I need you.  You're our in."

Jill frowned.  "Why am I not liking the sound of this?"

Barry folded his arms.  "The base is going to be locked down pretty tight," he said seriously, "we need you to get us in."

"Should have guessed," Jill mused, "so am I going to go in Mission Impossible style and drop through the skylight at dusk?"

"We thought more like Shawshank Redemption style and send you through the sewers," Chris said.

Jill snorted and rolled her eyes.

"I'm serious."

"Look, here's the layout," Barry said quickly, seeing that Jill was decidedly unamused, "most of the base is belowground, except for these four entrances.  Now they have guards on duty twenty-four hours a day… but there's only two at a time, since they have a pretty sophisticated security system that triggers a set of steel doors should any of the guards – or security officers manning the cameras – sounds an alarm."

"Soooo I get in, shut down the alarm system, and you guys overpower the guards," Jill said tiredly.

"Bingo," Chris nodded, "simple enough plan, right?"

"For a movie," Jill said skeptically, "tell me again how a lone intruder is going to wallow through the sewers, get _to_ the security office, and disable the security system – all without getting caught.  You think they don't check the sewers too?  I'll bet the designer of this place watched action movies too, Chris."

Chris gave her a lopsided grin.  "Always the practical one.  Show her the suit."

Rebecca moved to stand by Jill as Barry walked over to a small trunk in the corner and knelt by it, quickly dialing the combination on the padlock.  "Very high tech," she said lightly, trying to break the tension in the room.

"Sometimes the simple things are the best," Chris observed as Barry flipped the chest open, "no one would think of looking for this thing here, and even if they did, that would be the last place they'd check… plus there's a nasty surprise _in_ the box that only Barry knows how to disarm."

"Clever," Jill agreed, "but what is it?  To get past the security you've described, I'd need a Vermillion Industries class-C sneaksuit."

Chris's smile became a huge grin as Barry rose to his feet.  "Hope black is ok."

Rebecca secretly took great pleasure in watching Jill's jaw drop open.  "N-no way!" the thief sputtered, staring in wide-eyed amazement at the bulky black bodysuit Barry held up for inspection.  "Only five of those exist – the prototype, and one for each branch of the military, for testing… they're more closely guarded than the atom bomb!"

"Actually," Billy spoke up, casually scratching his nose, "there's eight of them.  There were two other prototypes besides the final version – and it _wasn't_ easy to get one."

Jill gave him a sideways look, asking – quite seriously, "How many people did you have to kill to get it?"

Billy coughed.  "I think it's your size," he said, tactfully dodging the question, "Redman over here gave me your measurements."

"Should be familiar enough with those," Jill sighed under her breath, barely loud enough for Rebecca to hear.  "They adjust to the wearer," she said loud enough to be heard by all, "it's one of the features that the government demanded.  They wanted to make sure anyone could use it."

"So," Chris said, taking the suit from Barry and offering it to Jill, "Can I count on you, my Valentine?"

"Don't call me that," Jill said sharply.

"Sorry."

Rebecca looked from one former teammate to the other, shaking her head sadly.  _Is there anyone in here that has NOT had a messed up relationship?_  Casting a look at Billy, she found him watching her closely, his dark eyes full of regret and disappointment.  _Yeah,_ she thought tiredly, _I guess we're all just a little screwed up, huh?_

She shook her head a bit harder, focusing on Jill once more as the other woman took the suit and looked around for a place to change. 

**

"So the sewer comes out here?" Jill said, tugging at the collar of the sneaksuit as she laid a finger on the map Barry had unrolled on the table.  "Our timing will have to be pretty good – I doubt we'll be able to talk by radio once I'm in."

"The suit has a watch built into the wrist," Chris pointed out, "we'll all synchronize to that, and we'll hit the door four hours after you go in."

"Four hours, huh?" Jill said thoughtfully, "I should be able to get it done in three."

"Then sit for an hour and do your nails before hitting the security center," Chris shrugged, "better to overestimate than under, I figure."

"And here I thought you were just a dumb marksman," Jill said teasingly, "alright, I'll go in at three P.M., follow this pipeline to the main treatment plant… god, this is a big lab to have its own treatment plant…" she trailed off, tapping the map thoughtfully for a moment before shaking her head.  "Anyway, I'll come out here, by the lockers, shower off really quick, and make my way to the security room here," she tilted her head to the side, "then taze taze, the guards go down, I shut down the grid, you're in, we get the goods, and we're out."  She raised her eyes, "Right?"

Chris nodded, setting a tazer and a nine-millimeter on the table.  "Best laid plans," he said softly, sliding both weapons closer to the woman.  "The suit has two ankle holsters – one for the gun, one for a knife.  The tazer should fit in one of the belt pouches."

"Samurai Edge," Jill chuckled softly, her eyes hazy as she looked down at the gun, "were you trying to be funny, or something?"

"I know it brings back memories," Chris admitted, "but it really is the best."  He scratched the back of his head.  "It's… mine, actually… I figure it's good luck, since it's managed to keep me alive this long."

"Or bad luck," Jill pointed out, "since you keep getting into trouble."  She glanced around, taking in the faces gathered around the table.  "Carlos," she said quietly, "last chance… if you don't-"

"Aww give it a rest, _chica_," Carlos cut her off, yawning expansively, "I said I'm in, so I'm in… besides, it's not like I got anything better going on."

Jill nodded, tugging again at the suit's collar.  "Damn thing," she muttered, "you can tell it's a prototype – it's too damn tight."

"That's not a problem from where I'm sitting," Carlos winked.

"Keep it in your pants," Jill grumbled disgustedly.

"So how does it work?" Rebecca asked curiously, trying not to be upset as she caught Billy giving Jill a quick, approving once-over.  "I must be the only one that's never heard of this thing." 

Jill smiled.  "Like this."

She stepped away from the table, pulling a hood from a small pouch on the back of the suit's neck and drawing it down over her face.  Then, with a small nod… she disappeared.

"I, umm… wow," Rebecca breathed, "it's an invisibility suit?"

"Not quite," Billy grinned, leaning down and scooping up a handful of dirt, "'cause, if it gets anything on it, you can see it – it works by bending light, so if something's stuck to it…"

He flung the dirt at the spot Jill had vanished from, but it sailed through the air, completely unhindered.

"What the hell?"

Rebecca stifled a giggle as Jill appeared right next to Billy, smiling wolfishly as she said, "First rule of thievery – don't get caught."  Her smile faded, though, as she admitted, "He's right… anything besides air and water will show up on the suit's surface – so I'm going to have to hotfoot it over to the locker room and shower as soon as I get out of the sewer."

"I would think you'd want to anyway," Billy muttered, his pride clearly still stinging from being caught off guard.

"Let's get packed up," Chris said after a moment of quiet, "it's a long drive, and I want to get this mission going as soon as we can… we've waited too long for this as it is."

Barry nodded, planting his hands on the table and looking each person in the eye before announcing, "From this point until the mission is complete, nothing else matters but your teammates, and your job.  Regardless of what you used to be, you are all S.T.A.R.S. now – and you will be expected to pull your weight every step of the way.  Are there any questions?"  Since there were none, Barry nodded.  "Alright… I was never good a naming operations, so we'll just call it the mission – but as far as I'm concerned, this is our last chance to settle things with Umbrella, so…" he took a deep breath and rose to his full height.  "With all of our hearts, minds, and souls, we dedicate ourselves to saving Sherry Birkin – no matter the cost.  So swears S.T.A.R.S. Team Omega."

He thrust his fist out into the center of the table, and one by one, the other members of the newly christened Omega team followed suit, until eight fists were united over the map of their ultimate objective.

_We're really doing this,_ Rebecca thought, feeling the familiar tingle of excitement in her stomach, _and this time – we'll make sure it ends!_

Continued…

Author's notes:  Sorry if this chapter was a little slow, but I figured it would be best to take a few minutes to introduce all the players that would be taking the field.  I hope I'm getting the characters right, but I wanted to make a special note on Claire's behavior, as some might be questioning why she's so bitter.  Just bear with me, and I'll make sure it all becomes clear in the next few chapters… but believe me, she has reason to be. :P

Pre-read on this chapter was again courtesy of Adiabatik, who really, really wants a Wesker doll  O_O Thanks, darlin' …and I'll see what I can do :D

Feedback is always welcome at random1377@yahoo.com or any site this story is posted on that has the ability to accept reviews. 


	3. Entry Level Opportunities

Disclaimer: see part 1 for disclaimer.

The More Things Change…

By Random1377

Part 3 – Entry Level Opportunities

Jill stretched and yawned, jarred from the unpleasant, recurring dream of being pursued by a thousand screaming monsters by a particularly deep pothole.  "Where are we?" she asked, her voice raspy and dry.

"Middle of nowhere," Claire answered quietly, "almost there."  She glanced at Jill, then nodded at the rearview mirror.  "Don't be too loud… they're both asleep."

Jill craned her neck and glanced into the back seat, finding Chris and Rebecca sleeping soundly, leaning against one another for support and warmth.  "That's almost cute," she murmured, "you'd think they were a couple."

A ghost of a smile appeared on Claire's face.  "People like us don't make couples," she whispered, "we have passing acquaintances, or flings."  She checked the side mirror and slowed down a bit to allow the car behind her to pass them by.  "But I'm sure you already know all about that, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" Jill asked, frowning faintly.  "I've had several long term relationships."

"How many since Raccoon?" Claire asked coolly.  When Jill said nothing, she nodded.  "See?  When something like that happens to you, you forget how to keep things together."  She rolled her shoulders, watching the taillights of the passing car until they vanished out of sight before whispering, "I had a thing with Leon after Raccoon… he was my first… I thought it would last forever."

"I'm… sorry," Jill said awkwardly, "I guess it's pretty clear that I had something with Carlos, isn't it?"

"Oh yeah," Claire nodded, "and it's pretty clear that he'd do just about anything he could to have you back…"  She snorted.  "And they say _we're_ clingy." 

"It's not all their fault," Jill pointed out, pulling again at the collar of her sneaksuit.

Claire shrugged.  "Never said it was, just said we can't be normal anymore… dealing with Umbrella has changed us."  There was a moment of silence before she said, "I can guess what happened with you and Carlos – you met in the heat of battle… jumped into a relationship… and just assumed it would all work out.  But what about my brother?  You knew him for over a year before Raccoon… and you seemed to get along ok.  Why did that fall apart?"

Jill shifted in her seat, glancing into the back to ensure that the man in question was indeed asleep.  "With Chris," she sighed, "with Chris… we were so caught up in doing the right thing that we hardly even thought.  It was fight for justice, roll in the sheets, rest, and repeat – for weeks… then when it became clear that no one was going to help us, it was argue, accuse, scream… until we realized that we couldn't be together as long as we had Umbrella on our minds.  So we agreed to let things go until they were taken care of."

"So why didn't you come find him afterwards?" Claire asked, her voice all too knowing.  "You said you thought Umbrella was gone… why didn't you run to him?"

There was a long pause before Jill replied, "He won't let it go."

"And that's the only reason?"

Jill let silence be her answer.

_It's not like I hate the guy,_ she thought, feeling quite irritated at the small smirk on Claire's face, _it's just… damn it, I've already gone over the reasons it wouldn't work out for us!  I don't have to justify myself to her!_

She stole another look at the younger woman, blinking in surprise as she spotted a small, discolored patch of skin just under her right eye.  "C-Claire?" she murmured, "You've got… there's something on your face."

Claire glanced in the rearview, sighing deeply as she guided the car to the side of the road.  "Seems to get shorter every time," she said airily, putting the car in park and unfastening her seatbelt.  "Think you can take over for a while?  I need to have a treatment."

"Ummm, sure."

"Thanks."

_What kind of treatment clears up BLACK, SCALY skin?_ Jill thought, unbuckling her own belt and slipping out of the car.  _It looks… dead – oh God, she can't be INFECTED! …can she?_

As the two doors closed, Rebecca groaned and opened her eyes.  "What's going on?" she asked blearily.  She gave a start as Claire glanced back at her, quickly regaining her composure as the young woman gave her a wry smile.  "Are you contagious?" she asked immediately.

"No," Claire shook her head, reaching into her belt pouch and pulling out a small hypodermic kit, "it's not a virus… or at least, it's not T, G, or T-Veronica.  It's a poison of some sort… but it has virus qualities."  She closed her right eye, ignoring the discomfort of the other two women as she raised the hypo to her face and slipped the needle expertly under the skin.  "I inhaled it during a fight with a rather nasty creature by the name of Nosferatu – formerly Alexander Ashford.  Normal remedies don't even touch it… but my… my companion was able to find a cure."  She hissed as the yellowish liquid in the syringe sank into her flesh.  "Or at least… we thought it was a cure.  Turns out it was only a stopgap – there isn't a cure, or at least, there isn't one I've been able to find… and believe me, I've looked pretty damn hard."

Jill grimaced as Claire pulled the needle out and began rubbing the area she had injected to distribute the temporary cure.  "So you just have to live with it?" she asked, horrified at the very thought.

"Hey," Claire shrugged, shivering as the black patch began to fade, "at least I get to live."  She looked out the window, an unreadable expression on her face as she concluded, "It's m-more than some people get."

Rebecca leaned forward in her seat, angling for a better look as Chris gave a disgruntled snort and moved to the opposite side of the car.  "Can I see that?" she asked softly, nodding to the hypodermic.  

"S-sure," Claire managed, another shiver running through her.  "I'm just… gonna sit here for a few minutes… l-let this run its course.  The map is on the d-dash…"

Jill nodded, giving Rebecca a significant glance as the younger woman leaned back in her seat.  _You thinking what I'm thinking?_ Jill mused, shifting the car into drive.  _If not… well, I'll take care of her if it turns out she's wrong and this IS a virus… but I really, REALLY hope it doesn't come to that._

Rebecca, however, was thinking something far different… and she made very sure that Jill did not see her tuck the hypodermic into her own belt pouch, being careful to slip the end into the plastic handle of her Swiss army knife – ensuring that the last few drops of the drug would not seep out.

**

"Ok," Jill said slowly, "so the rooms in red are the ones our friend Nick hasn't had access to, and therefore does not know what they contain, right?"

"Exactly," Chris nodded, rubbing his shoulder with a pained expression, "HCF placed him pretty high up in the organization when they hired him, but he's still not in the 'inner circle' just yet."

"You ok there, Ready?" Jill asked, arching an eyebrow as Chris continued to work at his shoulder.

"Slept funny," the man muttered, giving one last shrug, "and don't call me that."

Jill nodded.  "Fair enough," she said amicably, "old habits and all that."  She held out her hand, meeting Chris's gaze steadily.  "We all go home this time," she said softly, "and it all ends here.  Right?"

Chris took her hand, shaking it firmly.  "If we get what we came for, it all ends here," he said levelly, "that's all I'll cop to."  
  


Jill glanced at the trio, knowing that they (along with the rest of the team, waiting their arrival at the designated meeting point) would agree.  _All or nothing,_ she thought grimly, _S.T.A.R.S. 'til we die._

"Good luck, my Valentine," Chris whispered, stepping forward to snap the sneaksuit's small accessory belt around her waist.

Raising her arms, Jill allowed him to complete his task.  "Same to you, Ready," she whispered back, deciding that if there was ever a time for pet names, this was it.

"Hey," Chris murmured, lowering his voice even further as he straightened and speaking for Jill alone, "after this is all over… do you think we-"

"Not now," Jill cut in just as quietly, "I can't even think about that right now, Chris.  I'm sorry."

"I understand."

"Do you?" Jill countered.

Before he could answer, Jill pulled the sneaksuit's facemask down and secured it into the neck, holding her hand out to Claire for the small oxygen tank she would be using on her trip through the sewers.

"There's some oxygen tabs in your pouch," Rebecca informed her, "not sure how you'd get them in your mouth under four feet of sewage, but if you find yourself in a pinch… chew them as fast as you can – they'll oxygenate your blood for four minutes each, and you have five."

"You guys have all the swell gadgets," Jill joked weakly, affixing the oxygen tank to her chest with its simple harness.  "Any other surprises for me in there?"

"Your lockpicks," Chris replied, holding his hand up and ticking the contents off on his fingers, "tazer, two spare clips for your gun, a pocketknife, a couple herbs to kill the pain if you get hurt, and…" he grinned, "some jerky in case you get hungry."

"I knew there was a reason I let you pack," Jill said lightly, "you're so thoughtful."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as Jill fixed the breather portion of the oxygen tank over her face.  _Good thing they stole the mask that goes with the suit,_ Jill thought, starting the flow of oxygen and looking with distaste at the brown sewage she was about to crawl into.  _Otherwise I'd have to go with a normal scuba set – and I am NOT getting that stuff on my skin!_

Finding that there was nothing left to say, Jill simply turned away and strode towards the sewer outlet, quickly assessing the hole Rebecca had cut into the grill while Chris and Claire were stashing the car behind a rocky outcropping.  She could not deny that the base's location was prime – mountains on three sides, and only one serviceable road leading into the tiny 'valley,' the perfect spot for unethical research.

"Four hours," Jill whispered, her voice muffled by the mask and the breather, "let's rock."

She thought Chris called something to her as she stepped forward and slipped through the grill, immersing herself in the vile, slow-moving sludge passing through the sewers, but she could not simply back out and ask him to repeat himself.  _Cold,_ she thought, forcing herself to press on through the darkness, _God, it's like swimming through ice…_

Keeping her head down, Jill began to move forward, counting on the idea that her movements would look like nothing more than a ripple or current in the sewage.

_There ARE cameras down here,_ she reminded herself, forcing herself not to think of what was ebbing and flowing past her, _at least I can't see… just have to remember that the grate that leads to the treatment plant is the fourth one on the left, and I'm good to go._

It was slow going.  Mired down in the thick, viscous waste fluid, with her visual range at absolute zero, it left a lot of time for her to consider why she was there.  Passing the third grate, however, the only true conclusion she had come to was that she hated sewers, and that Chris was still cute.

_So sue me,_ she thought irritably, continuing her careful hand over hand progression towards the next grate, _I AM human after all, and he WAS my lover for a while, so can't I notice if he's still – whoa!  What was that!?!_

Jill froze, carefully feeling around on the bottom of the slick sewer pipe.  "Can't be," she told herself, disquieted by the liquid-distorted sound of her own voice as she continued to search for the object she had just 'walked' on.

Shaking her head, she continued on.  _Just your imagination, Jill,_ she told herself, _stay focused – there's no time to go back and check anyway, the current's probably dragged it away by now… so just keep moving._

But it was hard to shake the memory, as she had the distinct impression that she had just put her right hand… on a human forearm.

**

Surfacing in the treatment plant had been anticlimactic, as there was only one camera in the room she came up in, and it would not be able to spot her amongst the rest of the refuse in any case.  _Lord,_ she thought, entirely repulsed as she carefully wiped one of the sneaksuit's lenses clean with her thumb, _I guess they DO have to treat this stuff, don't they?_

Along with the usual human wastes and discarded food products, there were bobbing boxes – several of them marked hazardous – and a slew of small, dead animals, ranging from birds and rats up to small dogs and even, Jill thought, the remains of a pony.

_What the hell are they DOING here??_

The pipe she had come through, being an outflow pipe, led to a small, comparatively clean pool, separated from the main holding tank by a short wall.  Glancing around, she could see how the plant worked – raw materials came through several wide pipes around the perimeter of the room and converged in a huge holding tank in the middle of the room.  The raw waste was then drawn out through a row of intake pipes on the south side, carrying it to an enormous machine that was half concealed in the wall.  Presumably, this machine would filter out and destroy (most likely through incineration) any waste deemed too large or hazardous to pass into the sewer system, then deliver it into the pool Jill was crouching in, where it would be released in controlled doses to the outside world.

_Tidy,_ Jill thought with some distaste, watching the camera closely as it swung in a slow arc from left to right, _now._  As soon as she was sure the camera was pointing the opposite direction, she scrambled over the wall, cursing under her breath as she came down with a splash, finding the pool on the opposite side much deeper than she anticipated.

She went stock still as the camera whipped back around; zooming slowly over the area she was in.  The suit, as Billy had said, was only effective if it was clear of debris… but since she was covered from head to toe in the same muck she was floating in, Jill felt confident that she would blend in anyway.

After an eternity, the camera resumed its casual sweeping, moving away with a lazy, unhurried pace and leaving Jill to sigh in relief.  "Close," she whispered to herself, shrugging the oxygen tank free and letting it sink to the bottom before moving slowly towards the edge of the pool and freezing as the camera made another pass.  Once she was clear, she hoisted herself out of the tank and quickly climbed down the ladder, shuffle-sprinting as quietly as she could to stand directly under the camera's base and hoping whoever was manning the thing would not spot the vile brown footsteps leading from the base of the ladder.

_Can't be helped, _she thought, waiting tensely as the camera panned back towards the tank, _at least the rest of the floor is filthy… I don't even think it'll show up._

She let out another relieved sigh as the camera made three more passes without so much as slowing down.

"Alright… go time."

The next time the camera swung away from the door, Jill hurried over to it, entering the access code Ambrose had supplied and grinning under her mask as the door immediately hissed open.  Fortunately, the hallway she was now in was devoid of cameras, and she made it to the locker room without incident.

_Ahhh__ thank GOD,_ she thought, standing under the shower and watching the muck and filth flow down the drain, heading right back to where it had come from.  _Gotta__ make sure it all rinses down,_ she reminded herself, running her hands over the suit to ensure that every last bit of the sewage was washed away, _the hallway… I can't help, I'll just have to hope no one checks the tank before I get to security, but this is a pretty common shower room, I can't just-_

She froze as she heard voices approaching.  "Damn it…"

Quickly padding around the wide, tiled room, Jill turned all of the showerheads on full blast, filling the area almost instantly with a thick blanket of steam.

"And so I told her," one of the voices, now distinctly audible, was saying, "'Hey, the alley or the back seat, it don't make no difference as long as I get what I paid for.'"

The other voice replied, "So what did she say to that?"

"Well what could she say," the first voice snorted, "she got in, and we… hey, what is that _stink!_"

Jill tensed as the voices came to a halt just inside the shower.

"Aww man," the second voice groaned, "Joey must have been in here… God, is his nose just _dead_ or what??"

"Oh you've got to be kidding me!" the sound of feet slapping on tile reached Jill's ears, and a burly, towel-clad man hurried past the stall she was in, never even looking in her direction, "He got it all over the hall again!"

Another man, bigger than the first by at least seventy pounds, strode past Jill, missing her right foot by less than seven inches.  "I'll kill him," he growled.  "Now who do you think has to clean up this mess??"

"Screw that," the smaller man said, "I'm off the clock… let the next shift deal with this in the morning!  I'm not even turning any of this crap off."

"Yeah," the big man agreed, "you're right – let's just get outta here, I can shower at home… place gives me the creeps at night anyway."

"Amen."

Jill waited until they had gone before stepping out of the shallow stall.  "Guess this thing is worth the price we paid for it," she whispered to herself, grinning broadly as she held her arm out in front of her face, "Hmmm… just don't get caught in the rain…"

Her arm, she noticed, was just barely visible in the spray of water from the many showerheads as the stealth circuits struggled to bend the light around them.

_Time to go… I still have an hour and a half, and it's only fifteen minutes to the security station… but better safe than sorry._

Leaving the showers running, she made her way out, pausing to towel the water off of her suit before striding silently, confidently, invisibly down the hall.

**

The journey to the security office was a tense one as Jill kept hearing sounds behind her, only to turn and find the hallway entirely empty.  _Losing my mind,_ she thought nervously, crouching in a janitorial closet and listening intently for any unusual noises.  _I know it's not me,_ she mused, _the__ sneaksuit has pads on the feet to neutralize sound._

She stayed in the closet for over an hour, finding the dark and quiet very comforting.  Finally, she cracked the door open and peered out, fully expecting to find a pair of eyes peering right back, or possibly the wide, black barrel of a shotgun.  Finding nothing but an empty corridor, she slipped out and headed over to the security office, pulling her tazer out of the sneaksuit's accessory belt.

"Here we go."

She stepped into the security office with all of her senses tingling, alert for any hint that her presence had been detected.  _It's been too easy,_ she told herself pessimistically, _I've only seen those two guards… if they even were guards, they might have been janitors for all I know._

Her feeling of unease grew as she found two security officers dozing fitfully in front of the huge bank of monitors, their heads forward on their chests in identical positions of repose.

_Definitely something wrong…_

Checking her watch, Jill found that there was very little time for analysis.  Stepping forward, she pressed the tazer against one of the officers' backs, pressing the trigger and quickly turning the small weapon on the other officer, ensuring that neither would wake up any time soon.

"Too… easy…" she muttered, casting a suspicious look around the room.

Denying her danger instincts, she leaned over the security desk and deactivated the alarm system, stealing another look at her watch as one of the monitors on the wall showed a pair of trucks rolling up to the front gate.  _Perfect timing,_ she thought, watching through the screen as Chris leaned out the driver's side – presumably to talk to the guard on duty – and grinning broadly as he suddenly swung the door open.  _Zero body count, right?_ Jill thought, recognizing the spark of a long-distance tazer jump over Chris's shoulder.  _But something's wrong… what IS it??_

Scanning the security screens, she felt her heart sinking.  "Oh no… no!!"

In one of the rooms, clearly visible on the screen, sat a teenage girl with dark hair, her arms and legs securely fastened to the chair she was situated in… but behind the chair stood two figures, both dressed from head to toe in pure black, both wearing dark sunglasses, and both staring right into the camera with identical, terribly amused smiles.

The shorter of the two, Jill did not know, but as she turned from the monitors and dashed from the security room she knew what was bothering it.  It was not the ease of getting in, or the lack of guards or employees.  It was not the fact that she was cut off from the rest of her group, or the growing certainty that she was rushing headlong into a deathtrap.

No, everything that was wrong with this entire operation could be summed up in the name of the man smiling coolly up at the security camera in the room holding Sherry Birkin.

Death, spelled out in a single, sickening word.

"Wesker."

Continued…

Author's notes: you know, the hardest part about this chapter was getting Jill out of that damn tank!!  _  I just kept thinking, 'security would be tighter than that… no it wouldn't it's a sewage plant!  Yes it would, it's HCF!  No it wouldn't, it – aggghhh!!!' finally, I decided that it _is_ a sewage plant, so security probably wouldn't be _that_ tight… and as Jill noticed, the floor _would_ be filthy, so her footprints probably _wouldn't _show up.  HEY – it works for me!!  :P  Anyway, I hope you liked this installment.  Look forward to the next chapter, where we find out what Rebecca and the others are up to, coming… oh, when I feel like writing it.  :)

This chapter was pre-read by Adiabatik, who politely nodded and said, 'Yeah, umm… the whole thing with the tank?  …it could happen.'  Thanks for lying tactfully, my dear.  ^_~

Feedback is always welcome at random1377@yahoo.com or any site this story is posted on that has the ability to accept reviews. 


	4. Pyrite

Disclaimer: see part 1 for disclaimer.

The More Things Change…

By Random1377

Part 4 – Pyrite 

Rebecca could not shake the feeling that something was dreadfully, dreadfully wrong.  Yes, it was late at night, and yes, they had someone on the inside… but it still felt-

"Too easy…"

"Hmm?" Chris murmured, looking back over his shoulder as Claire knelt in front of the lock on the main entrance and began working on it with a set of lockpicks not unlike Jill's.  "What was that?"

Rebecca unconsciously tightened her grip on the gun in her hands, wishing suddenly that it was loaded with something heavier than tranquilizers.  "I said this is too damn easy," she whispered, "we should pull out…"

Barry snorted.  "Losing your nerve already?" he grunted.  "That's not like you, Becca."

"It feels wrong," Rebecca insisted, "I won't-"

"Physical lock's cracked," Claire interjected, reaching into a pack slung under her arm and pulling out a small black box, "give me three minutes on the card reader."

Chris grinned.  "I'll give you four, but not a second more."  He turned back to Rebecca and shrugged, his expression turning serious as he said, "Look, I don't feel so good about this whole setup either, so I'm not blowing you off here, Bec… but there's lives at stake – Sherry's and Ambrose's – and we have an obligation to-"

"Oh spare me the speech," Rebecca cut in tiredly, "I'm just really jumpy – I'll get over it."

"Good."

Silence descended, and a moment later the light on the card reader turned from red to green.  "We're in," Claire announced, rising to her feet as main door slid smoothly open.

"Alright, I'll take point," Barry announced, stepping through the small cluster of people, "Kennedy, you bring up the rear."

"Got it," Leon nodded.

_Man, that guy looks like he's ready to kick some ass,_ Rebecca thought as Carlos and Billy followed Barry through the gaping opening, _totally different from when we were planning this._

"Everyone is, I guess," she whispered to herself as she followed Claire into the complex.

Yes, she decided, they were all different when they wore their 'game faces.'  The air of camaraderie that had been present in the planning meeting was still there, but it was subdued, muted… as if the weight of the situation would not quite allow for friendly banter or comforting smiles.

"I got two guards," Barry announced in a soft whisper.  "Currently facing away from us, either side of the hall… Cohen, you get the right side, I'll take the left."

"You got it," Billy mumbled, pausing to pull out a silencer and twist it expertly onto the end of his pistol.

Rebecca's feeling of foreboding only grew as the two guards slumped to the ground with a barely audible grunt.  _Why were they facing… in?_

Claire's thoughts must have been running along the same lines, because as they passed the guards she whispered, "Shouldn't they be looking the other way?"

"Well," Chris said slowly, "this _is_ an HCF plant.  Maybe they were keeping something _in_?"

"I'm starting to agree with Rebecca," Leon murmured as they reached an X shaped intersection, "something is very, very wrong."

Claire stepped forward, walking up to Leon and looking him directly in the eyes.  "We're not leaving her again."

There was a moment of awkward silence as Leon did his best to meet the girl's eye.  "Of course not," he mumbled, finally looking away, "I just think there's more here than we can see."

"Isn't there always?" Billy quipped, looking to Chris.  "So which way?  Everyone agrees that this place gives off a really bad vibe, so let's do what we came to do and get the hell out."

"Amen to that," Chris said, pulling the map out of his pocket and consulting it.  "According to this, she's probably in one of the holding cells on the fourth level down.  There's an elevator bank right down this hall, and a set of stairs down the other one…" he looked around at the assembled team, "does anyone here really trust the idea of taking an elevator in this dump?  No?  Didn't think so.  Stairs it is."

They made their way down the hallway two by two, checking every door and hallway as they went for any lurking guards, but finding nothing between them and the stairway.  Chris took point as entered the stairs, his expression now decidedly troubled as he looked up and down before motioning for the others to follow.

_God, I just wish whatever was going to happen would happen,_ Rebecca thought as she started down the stairs, _it's the waiting that gets me.  Ghouls, zombies, hellhounds – bring 'em on!!  …just bring 'em on without making me so edgy that I jump at every damn shadow!_

"Is it my imagination," Leon asked as they reached the third floor, "or is it getting colder the further we go down?"

"It's your imagination," Billy whispered back, feeling the need to keep his voice low for some reason, "feels fine to me.  Anyone else?"

Rebecca shook her head, as did the others, and Leon shrugged.

"Guess it's just me."

"Guess it is," Claire said flatly, giving Leon a narrow look.  "Or it could just be your feet-"

"Look," Leon exploded, bringing everyone to an abrupt halt, "I did my best, ok?  It was a hot lead, and-"

"You left her alone!" Claire shot back, her body shaking with rage, "you left her in your apartment to go chase some stupid fake info on another goddamned Umbrella base – after you promised… you _promised_ taking care of her would be your top priority."  She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to get herself under control.  "You-"

"It wasn't my fault," Leon managed to interject, his voice bordering on hysterical, "I left safeguards, I had Anders and Lucian _in_ the damn house with her…" his shoulders slumped.  "It was only forty five minutes…"

Claire's nostrils flared as she pushed her way past the man.  "It was forty-five minutes too long, Leon."

One by one, the rest of the team filed past, keeping their eyes focused on the stairs as Leon clenched his jaw tightly closed and blinked rapidly, unwilling to let his emotions get the best of him.

"Hey…"

"What?" Leon sighed, wiping quickly at his eyes as Rebecca stopped in front of him.

"Let's go," she said gently, "let's bring her home, alright?  She can't stay mad forever, and if we can bring Sherry home, everything will be ok, right?"

Leon took a deep breath.  "Right," he nodded, trying to sound firm. "You're right."  He gave a short, harsh little laugh.  "I'm sorry," he chuckled, "I'm going all to pieces…"

Rebecca squeezed his shoulder, giving him a warm smile.  "It's ok… I understand.  Now let's go."

"Thanks."

Together, they caught up to the others, stepping boldly onto the fourth level.

**

"Tell me _this_ isn't a trap…"

Rebecca shook her head as the group approached the only open door on the fourth floor.  "I try not to lie whenever possible," she muttered, giving Billy a sidelong glance, "you know that."

Billy shook his head.  "There was that one time," he said softly, "you remember?  You told me we'd always-"

"I said I _try_ not to lie, Billy," Rebecca cut in, "and when I said that, I…"

"You what?"

Rebecca swallowed, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure no one else could hear them.  "I never meant to hurt you, Billy," she said seriously, "and I wasn't lying… when I said it."

Billy shrugged.  "Guess it doesn't matter now, huh?" he said calmly, "What's done is done and all that."

Impulsively, Rebecca said, "It does matter, Billy… it matters to me – a lot."  Gathering up her nerve, she added, "When this is over… let's talk, ok?"

"I wouldn't miss it," Billy whispered, 'accidentally' brushing his right hand across the back of her left, "for anything."

_Ohhh now why did I do that?_ Rebecca scolded herself as Chris crept up to the side of the door and motioned for them to wait.  _I promised myself we were through, so why-_

"Chris," a voice boomed out of the open doorway, making everyone jump, "don't just stand there hiding in the shadows… come on in.  Bring your friends – we'll reminisce."

Chris bared his teeth in an unconscious snarl.  "Wesker," he hissed, gesturing wildly for everyone to back up, "I thought I smelled you here."

Wesker's laugh echoed through the wide hallway a moment before the door leading to the stairway slammed shut and locked itself.  "I'm being polite here, Chris," the man laughed, "there's no need to get all pissy… now be a good boy and do what you're told, I'm losing my patience.  I won't kill you – scout's honor!"

The S.T.A.R.S. arranged themselves in a tight circle, covering every attack path as Chris replied, "You dropped out of Scouts when you were eight, remember?  You told me that during the Bakersville rescue!"

"Ahh so I did," Wesker returned, his voice full of humor, "well I guess you'll have to do it just because there's nowhere else to run, little man."

"Is he right?" Billy murmured, trying to look everywhere at once.

"…yeah," Chris whispered, "there's another elevator bank down the hall a bit, but we'd have to go through this room first."

"Magnifico," Carlos muttered, hoisting his assault rifle a bit higher, "so do we go in hot, or do we-" 

"Oh don't come in shooting," Wesker's voice cut in suddenly, "your little friend here might get caught in the crossfire."

Claire and Leon both tensed.  "Bastard," Claire whispered, "Wesker, if you've hurt her in any way, I'll-"

"Come now, Miss Redfield," Wesker said, his voice losing its playful edge, "torture is amusing, certainly, but with a subject so young and in such… questionable health, it's not a good idea to push-"

"Ahh!!"

Abruptly, Claire broke from the formation and raced through the door.

"Damn it!" Chris shouted, "Claaaaire!!"

"Guess that's it then," Billy grunted, dashing after the two Redfields.

The others all followed, charging headlong into a huge, disk-shaped with a door at the far end… and a small chair, with a set of broad shackles, in the middle.  The chair was occupied by a sickly looking girl of about seventeen.

"Sherry!!"

"Uh uh!" Wesker, standing behind the girl, said warningly, "Mustn't touch… there are rules to the little game we're about to play."

"Screw your rules," Rebecca said boldly, bringing her pistol around to bear and alternating between Wesker and the shorter, unfamiliar woman at his side.  "Let her go!"

"Hail, hail," Wesker said jovially, ignoring Rebecca's demand and focusing on Chris, "the gang's almost all here, eh Chris?  And new faces too!  How delightful."  He nodded to Billy and Carlos.  "Mister Cohen, Mister Olivera… so nice of you to join my little S.T.A.R.S."

Before either of the men could reply, Leon stepped forward, his face heavy with disbelief.  "A-Ada…?  Ada, is that you…?"

The woman turned her head slightly, her dark sunglasses facing Leon as she coldly replied, "Hello, Leon."

In the chair, the girl let out a soft groan.

"What have you done to her?" Claire demanded, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides as if she longed to grab the girl up and hold her close – or wrap them around Wesker's throat and throttle him until he fell lifeless at her feet… or both.

"It seems the inclement weather has given her… a bit of a cold," Wesker said with mock sadness.  "Viruses are so opportunistic, don't you think, Doctor Chambers?"

"What did you give her, you sick freak?" Rebecca asked, trying not to see the look of longing on Leon's face as he kept staring at the woman.

_Something happened between those two,_ she thought, trying to relax her grip on her gun so she did not accidentally fire, _Damn it – we should have taken more time swapping histories!!_

"Nothing incurable," Wesker said easily, "our… superiors wanted her kept alive, but weakened, so-"

"Ada," Leon cut in, taking a step forward, "Ada, come on… this isn't you… right?  You're good, deep down, I know you are – I saw it!"

A faint trace of a smile flitted across Ada's face.  "I'm not that person anymore, Leon," she said softly, "now step back, please; the rules of the game must be outlined."

Leon shook his head, taking another step forward.  "Come on, Ada," he said urgently, "don't do this… help us, Ada, I know you're-"

"This is the last warning you'll get, dear Leon," Ada said with, a note of true regret in her voice, "step… back."

"Ada, I-"

"I warned you."

Rebecca gasped as a gunshot rang out.  _I didn't even see her move!!_

"Leon!!"

Claire rushed to the man's side as he let out a cry of pain, clutching his right hand… where a small, perfectly round hole was just starting to drip blood onto the floor. Sherry's eyes widened, focusing on the blood as a small, desperate moan slipped past her lips.

Ada slowly re-holstered the gun she had produced in the span of a heartbeat, and spoke as calmly as a librarian reciting the decimal code for a research book.  "Now, from this point forward you will be playing a little game.  It's called 'live,' and it revolves around your ability to make it out of this complex alive.  Our company is in desperate need of combat trained personnel upon which to test their toys… and since you so obligingly wandered in here, I can't think of a better group of test subjects."

"You have five hours," Wesker picked up, patting Sherry on the shoulder as he grinned down at Leon and Claire, "then, as you should have guessed, this facility will undergo self-destruction."  He winked at Chris.  "You should know how those systems work, Redfield, you've set off enough of them in your time."

"We are familiar with your weapons," Ada said calmly, "and the subject of ammunition was discussed quite heatedly in the planning meeting for this exercise.  One faction pointed out that, to make it fair, you should be supplied with heavier weapons… or you would be dead inside five minutes.  The other faction argued that you are all military personnel, so you would be coming in with the weapons you would normally have, and adding others would skew the test data."

Wesker shook his head as Claire finally managed to bandage Leon's hand.  "But of course," he said sarcastically, "your noble nature brought you in here with tranquilizers instead of real bullets, so the data was again affected."

"The result?" Ada continued, "A compromise.  When the exercise begins, you will be supplied solid ammunition for your firearms – as much as you can carry… and once that it exhausted, you are on your own.  We felt it would be fair to-"

Ada was cut off as a knife tore through the air, burying itself to the hilt in her chest.

"Ahh, Miss Valentine is with us," Wesker said merrily, "Nice of you to join us, Jill."

The S.T.A.R.S. cast around the room, looking for any sign of their associate, but found nothing.

"Are you enjoying the sneaksuit we let you 'steal'?" Wesker asked, turning his attention to the doorway the others had come through.  "It's such a useful toy for skulking about, isn't it?"

"But so limited when it comes to combat," Ada sighed, reaching up and yanking the knife from her chest.  "Now we know you're here.  You have lost the element of surprise – and rest assured that if you draw another weapon… I will kill you where you stand."

Chris hissed as the wound in Ada's chest closed, leaving only smooth, pink skin.  "She's like you," he whispered, looking at Wesker.

"HCF's finest," Wesker nodded, "and now that you know that little detail, I'll give the final rule: we are not to harm you once the game has begun."  He laughed as Chris shook his head in disbelief.  "Oh, it's true," Wesker said happily, "our job is to lay out the rules, then leave you to your duties.  Our superiors don't think you'll make it past the fifteenth floor, but, just in case…" he showed all of his teeth, "we _are_ permitted to relieve you of your earthly burden should you somehow manage to make it all the way up to the surface."

"How Christian of you," Rebecca spat, "but we're on the fourth floor… and we're not planning to go down any further."

"Ahh plans have a way of changing, don't they?" Wesker asked, stretching languidly, "and now that Miss Valentine is with us," he tapped one of the buttons on his long black coat, and the door behind the S.T.A.R.S. slammed shut.

"Your first test – to earn your ammunition," Ada said quietly, "is now.  Say hello to one of our latest pets… she's only a Beta-class, but she should provide you _some_ entertainment."

Wesker tapped another button on his jacket, turning for the opposite door as the shackles on Sherry's arms and legs sprang open.  "You have sixty seconds until you arrive at your destination," he said smoothly, "I would recommend taking care of your 'problem' in thirty.  Good day."

Together, the two HCF employees stepped through the opposite door; pressing a plate on the other side and making it slam shut.

Silence filled the room as everyone stared at the girl.  "Hu… huhhhhhh…" she groaned, rising to her feet and standing unsteadily in front of the chair.

"Sherry," Claire whispered, helping Leon to his feet and taking a step towards the girl, "are you ok?  We came to-"

She cut herself off as Sherry abruptly dove to the floor, snorting and grunting as she quickly lapped up the small pool of blood that had fallen from Leon's hand.

"God…"

Sherry lifted her head as Leon gasped, fixing him with a bright, hungry stare.  Then she smiled… and her lips kept opening wider, and wider, and wider, splitting down to the back of her jaw as her teeth elongated.

"Take her down!!" Chris shouted suddenly, bringing his own gun to bear, "It's not her – it's a goddamn _monster_!!"

Everyone brought their weapons up as the thing crouched on all fours, its gaze never leaving Leon's as it prepared to spring.  Before anyone could pull the trigger, however, the room gave a sickening lurch, sending the entire team off-balance.

"We're dropping!!"

Rebecca's horrified announcement was followed a second later by a nerve-shattering screech of triumph as 'Sherry' leapt at her prey, her jaws snapping and her fingernails extending to become three inch long claws.

The game… had begun.

Continued…

Author's notes: yeah, I know it took a while to get this chapter out… but hey, no one reviewed chapter 3, so I didn't think anyone really cared that much.  *shrug*

Pre-read on this chapter was by the ever-patient Adiabatik, the paragon of Resident Evil fanfiction excellence. ^_^  Thanks, love.

Feedback is welcome on any site with reviewing capabilities, or by e-mailing me directly at random1377@yahoo.com 


	5. Narrow Margin

Disclaimer: see part 1 for disclaimer.

The More Things Change…

By Random1377

Part 5 – Narrow Margin

Jill raced down the steel and linoleum corridor at top speed, bringing her feet down with such force that the padding on the sneaksuit's feet almost created audible noise. _Damn it!_ she thought angrily, _Damn it, damn it, damn it! How could we have been so stupid?_

She rounded a corner, surveyed her options, and decided that her best bet would be to slip into one of the small labs lining the corridor she was in. As quickly as she could, she tried each knob, letting out a shuddering breath as she finally found one unlocked.

"Thank you, God," she gasped, pushing the door open and all but diving inside.

Taking a glance around to ensure that no one was in the room with her, she stepped under the single security camera so that its lens could not quite see her, and pulled the sneaksuit's mask off, drawing in deep, ragged gasps of air.

_Screwed,_ she thought immediately, looking around belatedly to see if there was a second camera in the room, _we're soooo screwwwed._

Finding that she was marginally safe, for the time being, Jill put her head back against the wall and tried to think. The last thing she had seen while standing just outside of the circular room the other S.T.A.R.S. were no doubt still trapped in was the madly rolling eyes of the girl sitting in the chair.

"She's been infected," Jill whispered, shaking her head and pulling the sneaksuit's mask back over her face – just in case. "Not sure what she has, but that girl's been infected with _something_."

Taking another deep breath, she asked herself what would happen when Wesker and that Ada woman realized she was not in the room with the rest of the team. She had thrown the knife from the safety of the doorway, though she knew well enough that Ada would have spotted the un-protected gleam of steel if she had tried to draw her handgun.

_I should have gone for her forehead,_ Jill lamented angrily. _My mistake for thinking she still had a heart, I guess._

Dropping suddenly to the floor, she whipped out her gun, popping the clip out and counting the rounds. She knew exactly how many were in it, of course, but by focusing on something small, she was able to keep the growing panic from overwhelming her.

"Seventeen," she whispered, "an extra in the pipe… two more clips in my pouch. Fifty-two bullets – one for each card in a deck… one for each state, with two left over… one for each… damn, we're very, very screwed…"

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. _Damn suit's too tight,_ she thought, tugging at her throat for a moment. _Or am I freaking? Yeah… I'm freaking – and I have every goddamn right to! We were set up BIG time…! Damn it, Ambrose!_

She tried to think, tugging at her throat as she went over every angle of their situation, ultimately coming back to one, simple truth – they had been compromised in the worst possible way, so none of the information on the installation could be taken as gospel… and unless she rejoined her fellow S.T.A.R.S. she, and they, would end up like Ambrose probably had.

"And the only time I'm going to be drooling, moaning, and shambling around is when I'm sleepwalking."

Feeling a bit better that she was able to crack a joke – even an incredibly stupid one – Jill edged to the door and pressed her ear against it.

She had come in only a few minutes prior, but in a situation like this, nothing could be taken for granted.

"…m thirty minutes," she heard Wesker's voice, sounding dangerously close. "Even if they kill the beta, we've got a half dozen gammas and two deltas down there – plus the normal toys. They don't stand a chance."

"It doesn't pay to underestimate," Ada's voice countered, sounding even closer (_they're right outside!_ Jill thought suddenly), "we've both seen the damage S.T.A.R.S. can do to a place."

Wesker snorted. "They're only effective if they have a cause to fight for," he said dismissively. "Missing sisters, saving civilians – anything that would make a bleeding heart weep, S.T.A.R.S. are all over it."

"All I'm saying is that we can't slack off on wat-"

"I'm not _entirely _stupid, you realize," Wesker cut in sharply. "I don't get paid what I get paid to do a half-assed job. I… wait…"

Jill's heart sank.

"…do you smell that?"

Stepping away from the door, Jill barely avoided having it slam into her as it was kicked open. She bit back a cry as she found herself eye to barrel with a firearm that looked like it weighed roughly a hundred and forty pounds – yet the arm that held it barely even flexed as it swept from one side of the room to the other.

"Do you have to break things everywhere you go?" Ada grumbled, glancing into the room – and right through Jill. "I smell… shit."

"What's wrong?"

"No, that's what I smell – there's a bathroom across the hall."

There was a brief pause.

"…how much do you get paid, again?"

Wesker bared his teeth, a frightening sight for Jill, considering he was baring them more or less _at_ her. "Thought I smelled gunpowder," he grumbled, finally slinging the cannon he was carrying over his shoulder. "Must be smelling things."

"There are far too many comments I could make at this point," Ada said flatly, "so I'll just leave it alone."

"Good idea."

Leaving the door hanging open, the two HCF enforcers continued on down the hall. Pausing long enough to make sure the smell Ada had identified was not coming from her own pants, Jill slipped off after them, keeping a healthy distance to avoid being smelled again.

_God DAMN those are some good senses!_ she marveled, creeping down the corridor as fast as she could. _If I had breathed too hard, they would have just started shooting – and this suit isn't bulletproof._

Through a long series of passages, she followed Wesker and Ada, glancing nervously over her shoulder several times as she spotted shambling forms just vanishing around corners at every turn.

_They must be able to program them to avoid a certain place,_ she thought suddenly, _or maybe… I don't know, maybe they know just enough to be scared of these two. Can't take anything for granted, I guess… but hopefully this hallway will stay clear._

Glancing over her shoulder as Ada and Wesker stopped to open a locked door, Jill gritted her teeth.

_Damn…_

Every door up and down the corridor had unlocked and sprung open… and from each room, a host of the undead began to fill the halls, moaning as if confused by their sudden freedom.

From the state of decomposition, or rather, lack of it, Jill guessed that these people had only been dead a day – two at the most – and all of them, she could see… were civilians. Scientists in lab coats. Janitors. Businessmen. Even a rather heavy looking zombie in a white apron could be seen in the mass.

_They… killed everyone,_ she thought incredulously. _No one's hurt, so they must have… God, they locked them down and gassed them. Good Lord, they ARE worse than umbrella!_

A noise from up ahead made her whirl back around… and she barely managed to sprint through the door Ada and Wesker had passed through as it hissed closed, locking with a rather loud thump as huge bars of steel shot into the frame.

_Guess we won't be coming out that door…_

Redirecting her attention, she inched forward, concerned that she had lost sight of Ada and Wesker. She found them in the very next room, both wearing identical expressions of neutrality as they stared down at a body on the floor.

"Stupid idiot," Wesker muttered, shaking his head from side to side. "How the hell did he get out of the cuffs?"

Jill angled for a better view, wincing as she found herself staring into the blank, empty eyes of Nick Ambrose. His throat, it seemed, had been cut from ear to ear… and in his right hand was the sharpened edge of what looked like a plastic spoon.

'Anything that gets the job done,' as her father used to say.

"Boss won't be happy," Ada mused. "He still had intel."

"Boss's never happy," Wesker grunted, kicking the corpse out of the way. "Let's see how our friends are doing."

Waiting for a few seconds to ensure that the duo had moved on, Jill quickly stepped forward and crouched by the body. _Yeah, that's not stage makeup,_ she thought grimly. _Rest in peace, you poor fool._

Crossing herself, Jill continued on, finding Ada and Wesker just walking into another room off the main corridor. She slipped in before the door could swing shut, positioning herself in the corner as the two approached a row of monitor screens.

_Security room,_ she thought immediately, scanning the rows of switches on the console under the monitors. _Same one I was in earlier. If I could have gotten back here before them, I could have made sure every lock between my team and the exit was open._

It was, of course, an impossible and pointlessly self-abusive thought. She had been too preoccupied with getting _to_ her team to warn them to think of popping all the locks… not to mention the fact that she would have released all of the BOWs before Wesker and Ada had, effectively killing herself. But it was still easy for her to say 'if only' when shown that, had she only a few extra minutes, she could have saved her friends unimaginable time and effort.

And possibly their lives.

_Well, _she thought suddenly, straightening her back and trying to angle for a better look as Wesker began cycling through the security camera images, _Daddy always said half of thieving was being in the right place at the right time. I'm in the right place… I just need to FORCE the time to be right._

"Hmm," Wesker hummed, finally stopping on a screen full of blank snow. "Guess we've missed the party."

"Check the other angles," Ada suggested. "Could be that this camera just got knocked out in the fight."

_Fight?_ Jill thought with some concern. _They're already fighting. Damn, I need to help!_

"Yes, yes," Wesker grumbled impatiently, "I know – I wasn't born yesterday. No, all the cameras are out. Very thorough, Redfield… very thorough."

"I suppose we'll have to keep one step ahead of them on the monitors," Ada observed, "if they're professionals, they'll be taking them out as they go."

"Indeed," her hulking companion agreed, giving her a sideways glance. "You look sick," he said abruptly, "take your stabilizer."

Ada turned to glance at the man, and Jill's eyes widened behind the sneaksuit's mask as she spotted a patch of blackened, dead skin covering the right side of her face. _What the…?_

Removing her glasses, Ada revealed one, snake-like yellow eye. "You're due for yours too," she said coolly, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small air hypo.

"I'll take it in a few minutes," Wesker said dismissively. "I don't need it as much as you."

"No," Ada said, tilting her head to the side and pressing the air hypo to her throat, "you need it more."

"Just shut up and take your medicine like a good girl," Wesker sneered. "I won't take advantage of your while you're down."

Ada gave him a sour stare.

"Administration would have your head, if I didn't get to it first."

Wesker grinned brutally. "And do you think I'm scared of them, or you?" he snorted.

"Them, yes," Ada shot back. "Without the stabilizer, you-"

"Shut your damn mouth and take the shot"

Ada's nostrils flared, but she held her tongue, pushing the button on the air hypo and sending whatever the 'stabilizer' was into her bloodstream.

Jill watched in fascination as the woman began to shake, grabbing the back of a chair and swinging the seat around to face her before collapsing into it. Her eyes rolled up, showing the whites, as every square inch of her body broke out in tiny drops of mingled blood and sweat.

"Hhkk…"

Small choking sounds issued from the woman's throat as she shuddered and twitched, and much to Jill's disgust, Wesker turned to watch, resting his chin in one palm as his eyes drank in the sight of his coworker's seizure, his lips curling up in an amused smile.

"Sucks, doesn't it?" he whispered, reaching out and ever-so-casually fondling the woman's breast. "Won't be like this every time… ha, who am I kidding – this is the best it'll ever be, Wong. Better get used to it."

Ada, Jill decided, must have been too deeply in the thrall of the drug to even notice that she was being groped… though, and it might have been her imagination, she thought that maybe the corners of the woman's eyes tightened ever so slightly. Of course, that could have been just an aftereffect of the black patch fading away.

When Ada's eyes fluttered back open several minutes later, Wesker was once again facing the monitors, with only a faint smile to show for his illicit actions.

"Where are our little friends?"

"Same floor, stocking up," Wesker said absently, "looks like they're one short, but I can't tell which one got nailed."

Jill's heart leapt into her throat.

"Why can't you tell?" Ada wondered, slipping her sunglasses back on and folding her arms over her chest. "Don't you recognize the faces of the people you betrayed and dishonored?"

"Oh, sure," Wesker yawned, "but they took out all the cameras at eye-level. I'm just going by the one under the munitions table and counting legs."

"Ah."

Ada leaned over the seat Wesker was sitting in, studying the screen closely.

"There's Kennedy," she said immediately. "I can see the bandage on his hand…"

"And the shape of his ass, no doubt," Wesker said dryly. "Maybe we should capture him so you can… interrogate h-"

"Shut up," Ada cut in flatly. "And there's… Chambers – small breasts. Burton – thick arms. Redfield's sister – the jacket." Her eyes scanned the others for a moment. "It's Valentine, you idiot," she muttered. "You can't see her because she's still wearing that damn suit."

"Why would she?" Wesker wondered. "And how do you know they didn't peel Redfield's sister's jacket off of her dead body and give it to Valentine?"

Ada pursed her lips, but made no reply.

"Well," Wesker shrugged, "I see blood on a couple of them… can't tell from here if it's theirs or the beta's, though."

"Probably the beta's," Ada said dismissively, "if they're wounded just from one beta, then they're not worth the effort of keeping alive to test the others – might as well just gas them now."

"Patience," the big man advised, rising to his feet and turning for the door, "you'll get your chance, if they make it past floor five."

_Five?_ Jill thought, _you son of a bitch! You said we-_

As if sensing her ill-will, Wesker suddenly spun on his heel, driving his fist into the wall inches from Jill's head.

"What _are_ you doing?" Ada wondered.

"Valentine," Wesker rumbled.

Jill held perfectly still, trying her best to _will_ her heart to stop beating as Wesker stared directly at her.

"…what about her?"

Wesker narrowed his eyes, slowly pulling his fist back and brushing plaster dust off of it. "She's here," he muttered, "I can _taste_ her."

"Oh?" Ada hummed, moving to stand next to Wesker and joining him in staring at the spot Jill was occupying. "Funny, I don't taste a thing."

Praying with all of her heart and soul that the sneaksuit was better than HCF's finest biotech weapons, Jill – still holding her breath – stepped sideways, her heart now hammering in her chest as she waited for Wesker's reaction.

It came in the form of his other fist pistoning forward and ramming through the air she had just vacated.

"Can I ask you something?"

Wesker bared his teeth. "What?" he snapped, pulling his fist back and staring at the knuckles as his eyes bored into the empty air.

Speaking very clearly, Ada slowly said, "Do you really think it's possible that Valentine could have gotten out of that room before we closed it, followed us from there to here, and snuck into this room without running into any of the carriers, and without us even suspecting it?"

Giving her a nasty glare, Wesker spat…and thankfully for Jill, failed to notice that the glob of spittle never quite touched the floor. "She's a thief," he said coldly. "And she's wearing a sneaksuit. Yes, I think she could do everything you just described and more."

Ada shrugged. "Then go ahead and tear up the walls, if it makes you feel better," she said dismissively. "You know her better than I do, I suppose… but honestly, I think you're giving her way too much credit."

"Didn't we just talk about underestimating?" Wesker said dangerously.

"And didn't I just say to go ahead and trash the place if you wanted to?" Ada replied archly. "I honestly don't care… but I don't plan to tear up _my_ knuckles flailing around like a two-year-old on the off-chance that _one_ lightly armed woman _might_ be in the room with us. We know she doesn't have anything heavier than a pistol on her, so what would she do if she was here? Bore us to death?"

Wesker stared at the woman for a moment before turning on his heel. "I'm going to take my stabilizer," he said flatly. "If you're dead when I get back, I'll know I was right."

"Fair enough."

As soon as the man had left, Ada examined the wall, shaking her head at the two, fist-shaped dents in it.

"Miss Valentine?" she said clearly. "Are you with me?"

Jill felt that replying to this would be tantamount to suicide, though in the wildest corner of her mind, she suddenly had an urge to shout, 'Yup, good one, huh? ha ha!'

Ada snorted, shaking her head as she turned back to the monitors.

"Man's a loon."

Surveying the room, Jill decided that it would be in her best interest to get out as fast as possible. _If Wesker feels like taking a closer look around when he gets back, I'm as dead as Ambrose._

A chill ran through her as an inhuman howl reverberated through the room.

"Have fun stabilizing," Ada muttered under her breath, "our friends are on the move."

Shivering from head to foot, Jill came to the conclusion that she must never, _ever_ be near Wesker when he took his stabilizer.

_Definitely need to get the HELL out of here,_ she told herself, lamenting the fact that she had not slipped out when Wesker had left. _Guess I'll have to do it when he comes back in._

Easing herself over to stand by the door, Jill waited. One slip-up, she reminded herself, would result in Wesker finding her, seizing her, and tearing her into little pieces – possibly after having his way with her, if his treatment of Ada was any indication of his libido.

_So, no pressure,_ she thought, shaking her arms to work the tension out of them. _Then again, I always did do better when there was something to lose._

Considering what would happen to her and her friends if she was caught, 'something to lose' happened to be everything she valued. Closing her eyes and stilling her breath, she waited for her chance.

Continued…

Author's notes: after almost a year and a half of being dead, this story once again rears its misshapen carcass. Kind of fitting for a Resident Evil story to be resurrected, eh? Here's hoping it was worth the resuscitation. Look for chapter 6 sometime before the release of Resident Evil 5. Probably. Oh, and that reminds me – this story was created long before RE4 came out, so it takes none of its plot into account. Anyone murmuring about Ada or Leon's characterization keep in mind that it's not a continuity error if the continuity hadn't been written yet. heh.

P.S. if anyone _really_ can't stand continuity conflicts, they are _more_ than free to send me a Gamecube with RE4 and RE0 so I can play them and make absolutely sure I'm getting every nuance down. Yes, I know it's a lot of gaming to do for a few character quirks and plot backgrounds, but it is a sacrifice I am willing to make.

I did not use a pre-reader for this story since… well, the person who usually does it for me seems to have vanished from the surface of the internet. Adiabatik, where have you _gone_? Come back to me! Sadness…


	6. Into the Fire

Disclaimer: see part 1 for disclaimer.

The More Things Change…

By Random1377

Part 6 – Into the Fire

The bottom dropped out, the lights went down… Hell broke loose.

Rebecca could not keep from screaming as her stomach jumped into her throat. All around her, the sounds of other cries and gunfire erupted.

"It's moving, I can't-"

"Fan out, everyone fan out!"

_Bang. Bang. Bangbangbang._

"Secure your fire, goddamn it! We're too clo-"

"_Scree_!"

Through muzzle flashes, Rebecca could see the monster that had been disguised as Sherry scrambling through their midst, its eyes wild and hungry as it toyed with them – heightening their fear in anticipation of the kill.

"_Damn it,_" a voice very close to her cried, _"I'm HIT!"_

Rebecca shook herself, seizing Carlos's arm and yanking him backward as the creature sprang at him, seemingly driven into a frenzy by the sight of the blood pouring from his shoulder.

"Over here," she screamed, hauling the man to the ground and rolling on top of him, "Follow my voice, _she's_ _over here!_"

Pain erupted in her back as sharp claws shredded her shirt and dug into her skin.

_Infected,_ she thought immediately, holding Carlos tighter as he began to struggle, _Oh God, I'm infected!_

She arched her back, pressing her stomach almost intimately up against Carlos's, trying to escape the agony as the scrapes began to howl with pain.

The sane part of her mind told her that unless the creature was bleeding or oozing or otherwise secreting some type of fluid, a simple clawing would not let the T-virus into her system… but the sane part of her was not in control, and though she was still shielding Carlos's body with her own, she tried to crawl across the floor, tears spilling from her eyes as she imagined all of the zombies and other undead monsters she had encountered in her time as a S.T.A.R.S. member.

_No,_ she begged, sobbing as the creature's claws found her once more, _no, I don't want to die like that! Not like that!_

"Becca," Barry's powerful voice shouted. "Hold still, I can't get a bead!"

Rebecca could not obey. All that mattered to her was to flee – to escape the horrible certainty that, live or die, she was now condemned to rise from her eternal slumber and stagger mindlessly around in search of human flesh until someone or something finally put her out of her senseless misery.

"_Fire,_" Chris screamed, "just open fire, damn it!"

_Boom.__ Boom. Boom._

Barry's huge handgun thundered, the flash casting his face into stark relief as he pumped three rounds into the Sherry-creature's shoulders and back.

"Get her out of there!" he shouted, bracing his gun in both hands as the creature staggered and whirled around to face him.

"_SCRE-"_

_Boom._

Rebecca screamed as she felt the creature's blood splatter all over her back.

If she wasn't infected before… she definitely would be now.

"No," she sobbed, "Oh no… no _nonononononnooooo_!"

"Hold her," Chris's voice barked, "Olivera, hold her tight._"_

"Sorry, _chica_"

Rebecca fought as Carlos's arms wrapped around her shoulders. _Gun,_ she thought desperately, _someone give me a gun, someone-_

"_Kill me!_" she shrieked, unable to contain her terror, _"God, kill me, please! I don't want- HAHHHHH!"_

Pain, unlike any she had imagined, flared on her back as someone – her frazzled mind could not grasp who… upended a bottle of alcohol, pouring it slowly and methodically over her injuries.

"Hold her," Rebecca could someone saying as the pain rose higher and higher, "hold her as tight as you can…"

Her back felt as if someone had lit a torch and was holding it against her skin. Black spots danced in her vision as her body convulsed, her feet beating against the floor until someone held them fast.

Anything would be better – _death_ would be better – than this.

With a final, weak sob, Rebecca passed out, slumping against Carlos's chest as the dark oblivion of unconsciousness finally took the pain away.

( 0 0 0 )

Rebecca woke to the sharp, acrid stench of smelling salts.

"Wha- OW!"

"Easy," Billy said, grabbing her arms as she winced in pain. "Easy there, killer… you'll pull your bandages off."

"How long?" Rebecca managed.

It felt like she had been out for days, so her eyes widened as Billy replied, "Four minutes."

"Four… _minutes?_"

"Yup," Billy nodded. "Redfield – Chris – slapped a field dressing on you as fast as he could and we hustled out of there. Now we're in some kind of storeroom or something – and that table over there is like an all-you-can-eat buffet of bullets."

Rebecca followed his pointing finger, finding a large steel table piled high with what seemed like an endless supply of bullets and clips in every caliber. "Too bad we don't have a fifty-cal," she said, her face twisting up in pain as she pushed up to her feet.

"Burton's is a fifty," Billy pointed out, slipping an arm around the small of her back to help support her. "Sure put a big hole in that monster back there."

"Monster," Rebecca echoed, her eyes widening as she remembered the feel of blood hitting her open wounds. "Billy, you have to-"

Billy raised a hand, cutting her off in mid-sentence. "We think we got it in time," he said softly. "Chris used an entire bottle of pure isopropyl on your back less than five seconds after contact. Even if that thing was a carrier, alcohol kills anything if you get it on fast enough."

"_If_," Rebecca said quickly, "but-"

"Hey," Billy interrupted. "'If' is good enough for right now."

"But-"

"_Hey,_" again, she was cut off, "you can't worry about it – it's too late to do anything about it, ok? If… you know, if it turns out we were too slow… I'll take care of you, ok?"

Rebecca clenched her eyes closed, knowing all too well what 'take care of' really meant. "If I don't get my hands on one of you first," she whispered.

"Too much if," Carlos said, slapping a clip into his M-16 and taking a step closer to the wounded woman. "That was dangerous, _chica_," he said softly. "Saved my life… but you almost lost yours. Why'd you do all that for someone you hardly know?"

"Combat medic," Rebecca explained softly. "Standard CPET procedure – Cover… Protect… Evacuate… Treat." She gave him a weak smile. "I was just doing my job…"

Carlos put his hand out. "I'm glad you did," he said seriously, "I never even saw that thing coming."

Rebecca shook his hand, glancing at his shoulder. "Someone patch you up already?"

"Yeah," Carlos shrugged, "couldn't get the bullet out, but oh well. I'll live with it until we get out of this dump."

Rebecca noticed that the man favored his injured arm as he hefted his rifle up and turned away from her… but there was nothing to do but deal with it – for all of them. _It's not like I can just have him lie down and take it easy until help comes,_ she thought darkly, _WE were supposed to be the help!_

"Hey," she said suddenly, "why doesn't it hurt?"

It was a testament to her scattered state of mind that it didn't occur to her to ask this question sooner, but her back felt surprisingly cool and pain free.

"Lydocane," Chris said, glancing up from where he was stuffing a satchel full of clips. "Shot you up good, Chambers… but it won't last forever."

That was for sure, Rebecca mused. Lydocane was only a mild pain killer, and even if he used a fairly healthy dose, she would only have a few hours. Then again, they _all_ only had a few hours, so the return of pain was pretty far down at the bottom of her priority list.

Abruptly, a certain sense of… freedom came to Rebecca's attention.

"Billy?"

"Hmm?"

"…where's my bra?"

Billy shrugged, glancing up at the ceiling as he replied, "Straps were torn up… it was useless. Wow, look at the architecture in this place."

"Useless, right," Rebecca said dryly, pulling away from him and walking over to see if she could find more clips for her handgun.

"Hey, it's not like I haven't seen them before," Billy pointed out. "I'll pick you out something pretty as soon as we're out."

Rebecca was about to point out that this was another 'if' when she noticed that they were one person short. "Where's Jill?" she wondered, running her fingers over a collection of clips as she suddenly looked up at Barry. "And why did you have live rounds? I thought we agreed on tranqs?"

Barry and Chris exchanged a sideways glance.

"Jill's not here," Chris replied quietly, "and… each of us brought a clip of live rounds with us – in case of… well, something like this."

Rebecca frowned. "When were you planning to tell me?" she demanded. "And if Jill's not here, where is she?"

"We weren't planning to tell you," Chris said bluntly, "and she wasn't in the room when it dropped. Now can we go to one question at a time, please? And pick up the pace? We're kind of trying to beat the clock here."

"The knife."

"Huh?"

Rebecca turned to Claire.

"Jill's knife," Claire clarified. "I was looking around for a way to get behind Wesker and the other woman, so I wasn't looking directly at them. The knife came from outside the room. Jill's still on the floor we started on."

"Perfect," Chris declared. "Once we gear up, we can contact her on her walkie-talkie." He frowned suddenly. "She… does have one, right? Please, God, someone tell me we gave her a walkie-talkie."

"Relax, chief," Carlos said, making soothing gestures with his hands. "It's under her suit at the small of her back, remember? We gave her the small one with the earpiece, _comprende_? Still don't know if we can reach her through all the hardening this place has, though."

Chris visibly relaxed. "Guess we'll find out," he said firmly. "Ok, everyone get as much as you can carry and still be able to run. What you see is what you get, according to Wesker… so once this stuff is gone, we'll be down to knives and bad words."

"Yo mama is mine," Billy said easily, "you can have son-of-a-bitch."

This garnered a small laugh from everyone.

"Alright," Chris said, gesturing for everyone to gather into a semicircle around him. "As the old saying goes, this is the shit, and we're in it. Fifteen levels deep, if Wesker was telling the truth… which means we should count on being down twenty or more. We have limited ammo – but we _are_ the best, so this little game? No sweat. Everyone in?"

He thrust his fist forward, looking around as everyone followed suit.

Not that anyone had any other options, of course, but morale was important.

"S.T.A.R.S. Omega," Chris said formally, sidestepping the lengthy speech in consideration of the decreasing time, "moving out."

"Hooah!"

Moving quickly, everyone gathered up their ammo, securing it around themselves as best they could before lining up by the room's only other door.

"Burton, point," Chris barked, "Olivera, Kennedy, take the rear… wait, Kennedy, how are you at shooting lefty?" He sighed as Leon admitted that he _could_ shoot with his left hand, but not very accurately. "Alright," Chris modified, "Olivera and Cohen in back, Kennedy, Chambers and… Redfield," he gave his sister a wry smile, "watch the sides. I'll be up front with Barry. Our destination, kids, is the _exit._ All other destination and goals are now considered _null_."

Claire opened her mouth to protest, but reminded herself that Sherry was probably miles from here. _Fool's errand,_ she thought bitterly, _nothing but a waste of time…! Sherry, as God is my witness I WILL find you._

"Let's see if we can get in touch with Valentine before we roll."

"Hey," Billy murmured as Chris pulled out his walkie-talkie, "sorry I plugged you, man."

Carlos snorted. "Only reason you don't have a hole in you is that you hit me first. Don't sweat it," he held out a hand, "just don't nail me again, and I'll try to make sure you're out of the way before I start blasting."

"Deal."

As the two shook on this agreement, Chris lifted the walkie-talkie to his mouth. "Jill, Jill do you read?" he said, raising his voice to hear himself over the chatter behind him. "Jill, this is Redfield, over."

He let his finger off the send button, and immediately several sounds burst through the walkie-talkie.

_Ksht_"-ck!" _Ksht_ "Valentine!" _Ksht_ "Motherf-"

Silence.

Chris lowered the walkie-talkie. "God," he whispered, "Oh God, Jill…"

"Was that…?"

Lifting his head, Chris looked into Barry's concerned eyes. "Yeah…" he whispered.

Everyone paled as he completed his sentence.

"…that was Wesker."

Continued…

Author's notes: not as long as last chapter, but good wholesome family fun nonetheless, eh? EH?

I actually managed to find Adiabatik and sent her this chapter to pre-read… but it seems she has one of those newfangled 'real' lives, and didn't seem to have the time to get back to me. Again, I'm flying solo. Sigh.


	7. OneWoman Army

Disclaimer: see part 1 for disclaimer.

The More Things Change…

By Random1377

Part 7 – One-Woman Army

Jill opened her eyes, bracing herself as the door opened and Wesker stepped back into the security room. _Time it right,_ she warned herself, tensing her muscles for quick movement, _slip behind him, get out before the door shuts… no sweat. Get ready… wait for him to take another step… and then-_

_Ksht_ "Jill, Jill do you read?" Chris's voice abruptly burst in her ear. "Jill, this is Redfield, over." _Ksht_

Wesker's spun around, his eyes focusing directly on Jill's location.

"Oh fu-"

"Valentine!" the huge man bellowed, his face splitting into an awful grin as behind him, Ada shot to her feet, letting out a shout that was half amazement and half admiration

"-ucker, she _is _here!"

Jill's reactions kicked into overdrive. Throwing herself backward, she slammed her back into the wall, silencing the walkie-talkie before it could squawk again. Though the crunch of breaking plastic gave her position away, bringing Wesker's attention entirely on her exact location, Jill did not allow herself to think. Planting one foot on the wall, she dropped into a low crouch, using the leverage to propel herself forward, driving her shoulder into Wesker's gut.

"Wuff!"

Whatever the big man had been expecting, it was not this. Jill's shoulder caught him in the solar plexus, and while he had the advantage of height and bulk, Jill's momentum was enough to drive the air from his lungs and make him stagger.

Wasting no time on congratulations, Jill bolted, hitting the door hard as Ada opened fire, punching two rounds into the wall where Jill had been standing only seconds before.

_Go,_ Jill thought, whipping the door shut as she dashed down the corridor, _go, go, go, GO!_

"…ay here!" she heard Wesker roar as the door was flung open, "watch the others – she's _mine!_"

_Well,_ Jill thought, rounding the corner at full speed, _one on one is better than two on one… though honestly, one on one with Wesker is more like three on one. If he gets his hands on me, I'm dead._

The solution to this problem, of course, was to ensure that the hulking man did not get his hands on her – a questionable proposition as Jill found herself rounding another corner and coming face to face with the heavily locked door holding the hordes of shambling zombies at bay.

_You've gotta be KIDDING!_

She glanced around, wishing she had taken more time on her way through to take notice of any side doors or avenues of escape. Unfortunately for her, this survey now took her less than four seconds. The hallway she was in went down ten feet before ending in the huge, reinforced door.

There were no other exits.

_Damn it!_

Her options were twofold – backtrack and try to find another unlocked door before Wesker reached her location, or try to open the massive, thoroughly locked security door.

_Back we go,_ she thought dismally.

Turning on her heel, though, she found Wesker just coming around the bend, rising to his full height and towering over the small corridor and grinning his sick grin. "Gotcha," he said merrily, "no use hiding, Valentine… I can hear you breathing."

Jill clenched her eyes shut.

In her panic and fear, she was panting like a dog. The sneaksuit would muffle the sound of normal breathing, but as her lungs were puffing in and out like a bellows, there was nothing it could do to hide her.

"Wanna see a neat trick?"

Backing into the corner and reaching for her pouch, Jill thought, _Maybe__ if I take him off guard, I can get a shot off…_

She edged her hand into the pouch as Wesker pulled a small device – rather like a remote control – out of his pocket. "See this?" he asked jovially. "It's called a failsafe."

Jill held her tongue, and her breath, praying that if she breathed shallowly enough, she might still be able to keep this situation from turning deadly. This hope was dashed as Wesker marched directly up to her, stopping three feet from her face and brandishing the failsafe device up for Jill to see, forcing her to take a good look at it.

_Tazer_ she thought, wrapping her hands around the handle of the incapacitating weapon as she glanced at the object in Wesker's hand. _Useless… damn it, why did I put my gun in here? Oh yeah, to keep from tripping on it when I ran – damn thing was too heav-_

"Can you read it yet, Valentine?"

Jill frowned, focusing for a moment on the tiny company logo written over the failsafe's single button.

_Vermillion…?_

Her eyes widened as Wesker's thumb covered the button.

"Night, night."

"Hhhk."

Jill's hands flew to her throat as the sneaksuit's collar abruptly cinched off her airway, tightening nearly hard enough to snap her neck as Wesker barked a cruel laugh.

"Oh Valentine," he chuckled, reaching out and wrapping his hand around the top of Jill's head – a target made easy to find by the woman's increasingly desperate choking sounds. "Did you honestly think your little band of hoodlums could steal something like this without a helping hand? You're stupider than I thought."

Had she been able to, Jill would have cried out in dismay as he tore her hood back, taking a small clump of hair with it as he tossed it to the side.

"Bad dye job," Wesker snorted, his grin widening as Jill clawed at her throat, too frantic to escape the strangulation to drop the tazer in her right hand. "Tell me, though… do blondes have more fun? I'd take the time to find out, but I think I'll wait until the suit finishes you – less chance of you pulling a fast one that way."

"Si-sick… bast…ard…" Jill managed, feeling her head start to swim as black dots danced in front of her eyes.

_He's going to…_

The thought was so vile that she could not finish it.

He was going to violate her – worse… he was going to desecrate her. The very idea made Jill's skin crawl.

"Know what else?" Wesker asked, dropping her a wink as he leaned into her personal space. "I might even flip you over… what do you think about that? Help myself to a bit of that cute little a-"

"NNnnngh!"

With all of her remaining strength, Jill drove her right hand forward, planting the tazer in the middle of Wesker's forehead and pulling the trigger, taking great satisfaction in watching his eyes roll back in his head as the smell of cooking flesh filled the air. Her knees gave out as Wesker swayed on his feet, shaking his head from side to side as if trying to get rid of a particularly unpleasant mental image.

_Fall… goddamn… it…_ she thought, her tongue lolling from her mouth as she fell to the floor. _Just… go… down…!_

Abruptly, Wesker stilled, pitching over backwards with a tremendous crash… though the pressure on Jill's throat did not go away. Her eyes shot to his hand, finding the failsafe still held firmly in his grip. She felt lightheaded, trying her best to stay conscious as her oxygen supply was ruthlessly denied.

_Can't…_ she thought incoherently, unable to even form the idea of unwrapping Wesker's fingers. _Chris… hel…p… me…_

Drawing on all of her reserves, Jill forced her hand to dip back into her belt pouch, fumbling for the oxygen tablets. If she could chew one – without biting her swelling tongue off – she would have four minutes to pry Wesker's fingers off of the failsafe and free her throat… but no matter how she tried, she could not seem to find the blister pack with the pills inside.

Tears of frustration and fear spilled down her cheeks as her fingers began to tingle.

_Chris,_ she thought dizzily, _Chris… I… please… help…_

Inspiration hit her as her hand wrapped around smooth plastic. She slumped to the floor, managing to fall on her side as she drew the small pocketknife out of her pouch and shakingly flipped the blade open.

"Hk… hk…"

Her air was gone. Only the softest choking sounds filled the air as she struggled to bring the blade up.

_I… can't… die… here…_ she thought, feeling drool running from the corner of her mouth, _have to… save… someone…_

Who she had to save was no longer clear to her dimming mind. Her body was starting to give up, and all that she knew was that someone would die if she did not save them. Operating on the last command of her blackening mind, Jill's hand lifted the blade up to her throat, forcing it into the still-tightening material… and tearing it sharply upward, cutting through fabric and flesh alike.

"HAAAAHHHHH!"

Air rushed into Jill's lungs as the awful constricting sensation suddenly vanished. She coughed, alternating between violently emptying her stomach and taking in deep lungfuls of sweet, life-giving oxygen. It took all of her willpower to keep from passing out as her body slowly received the message that it was _not_ time to die.

_Bleeding,_ she thought dizzily, _cut my own goddamn throat…!_

Forcing herself upright, she yanked her belt pouch off, tearing it open in search of anything she could use to stanch the flow of blood.

Nothing… no bandages, no first aid spray, no absorbent fabric, not a single thing that would keep the precious blood spilling from her throat inside of her body. _Think,_ she told herself fiercely. _Cut's deep, but I don't think it hit an artery. I've got a few minutes, tops… but if I can stop the bleeding._

Her eyes shot to Wesker.

_Maybe…_

Dragging herself over to the unconscious man, she fumbled in his pockets, too focused on the simple task of living to be disgusted at touching a man who had been planning to rape her corpse.

"Still… a smoker…" she gasped, pulling out a book of matches. "May I?"

Falling onto her side, Jll pulled out one of the spare clips for her handgun, popping three bullets out and setting them next to her. _Hurry,_ she thought, grimacing in distaste as blood ran into her ear, _do it fast, Valentine – don't think about it, just do it._

Still suffering from oxygen deprivation, Jill pried the bullets out of their casings with the tip of the pocketknife, preparing herself for the pain yet to come as she dumped the gunpowder all over her wound. In stung like a hell, but she simply gritted her teeth, emptying all three shells into the cut before striking a match on the cover of the matchbook and holding it up to her eye to inspect its dancing flame.

"Yippie-ki-yay," she whispered. "Rambo, eat your heart out…"

Abruptly, she touched the lit match to the gunpowder.

_Fwsh_

"GAH!"

She had thought she was prepared for the pain.

She was very wrong.

Nerves she was not even aware she had sizzled and screamed as her skin cauterized, fusing the hole in her throat closed as the surrounding skin blackened and peeled. As she lay gasping for breath and holding on to consciousness with all over her might, it occurred to her that – should she survive this nightmare – she would be scarred for life.

_No more… beauty pageants for me…_ she thought sickly, _I'll be… lucky if I can even get a da-_

"Nnnn…"

Jill's head whipped around – a proposition that generated even more pain… though she hardly noticed it as Wesker let out another groan, putting his hand to his head as he forced himself to a sitting position.

_No… way!_

A tazer hit to the head would be enough to kill a normal man, and while Jill knew Wesker wasn't normal anymore, she had at least hoped for a few _minutes_ to work with. Rising to unsteady feet, Jill fumbled for her gun.

As she saw it, no matter how strong he was, eighteen rounds of parabellum ammo to the face should be enough to ensure that he wouldn't bother her ever again.

"Where…?"

Jill nearly screamed with frustration as she realized that her belt pouch was still on the floor.

_No time,_ she thought, her eyes widening in fear as Wesker slowly lifted his head. _NO TIME!_

As quickly as she could, she stooped down, grabbing the pouch in one hand and the sneaksuit's hood in the other.

"Valen-"

Lashing out, Jill kicked the groggy man in the temple with all her strength, taking great satisfaction in the pained grunt he let out and barely noticing the flare of agony in her toe as he pitched over sideways.

"See you around, asshole!"

Counting herself lucky to be alive, Jill took off, backtracking halfway back to the security room and hitting the door marked 'stairs' as hard as she could, tearing down five flights before tucking herself under one of the staircases and holding her breath, grasping her gun in both hands as she waited for sounds of pursuit.

If Wesker poked his face around to see where she was hiding, Jill swore she would pump it full of lead.

After fifteen minutes of dead silence, she slowly slumped back against the wall. _Definite, 'too close' moment_ she thought, taking a long, deep breath and letting it out very slowly.

"Ok," she whispered, considering the sneaksuit's hood for a moment, "first things first, see if this think still works with a tear in the throat. Next," she clenched her hand into a fist, "next we find Carlos and get my goody bag back."

With her bag of assorted thieving equipment, Jill felt sure that she could get back into the security room – or at least, find a viable exit for her team… one that did _not_ involve being gnawed on by zombies, lickers, tyrants, or whatever Umbrella's successors had dreamed up for them to be eaten by.

Or at the very least, increase their chances.

_This isn't survival of the fittest,_ she told herself as she pulled the sneaksuit's hood back on, _this__ is just plain survival._

Activating the sneaksuit, Jill was pleased to find that – at the very least – her arms, legs, and body seemed to disappear.

"Now to find a mirror," she whispered, reattaching her belt pouch… but keeping her gun firmly in her hand. "Gotta see about the ne- ow!"

She winced as she took a step, the foot she had used to kick Wesker giving an angry throb and reminding the wound in her throat to make its presence known as well.

_Broken,_ she thought, pursing her lips as she stared down at where her big toe would be had it not been invisible. _And… oh that's just sick! I'll clean that up later – gotta get moving._

She bared her teeth as she struck off towards the lower levels.

Wesker's spit was still on her foot.

Continued…

Author's notes: no one – I repeat, no one… likes having Wesker spit on them. That should be a fortune cookie. Kind of has a nice ring to it.

No pre-reader was used on this chapter, but considering thathardly anyoneREAD the last chapter, I doubt there's anyone that cares about a few glitches… or the story, for that matter. Angst, angst, angst!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: see part 1 for disclaimer.

The More Things Change…

By Random1377

Part 8

Their movements were slow, hampered by the sense of unease that each team member felt at the current situation. _To sum up_, Rebecca thought grimly, _we're God knows how deep underground, surrounded by unholy freaks of science, and one of our crew has either been captured or killed by the slimiest freak this side of a tyrant. No wonder everyone's tense._

Tense, she figured, was a rather large understatement. No one had spoken more than five words at a time since loading up on ammo and moving out of what Chris had dubbed the safe room – a room that was now more like a real safe, complete with a huge steel door and a massive lock that had driven foot-thick bars into the concrete on either side of the door as soon as they were all clear.

_Jill,_ Rebecca thought grimly, _stay alive until we get there, no matter what they do to you. God, I hate this quiet! I'm going nuts here!_

"So," she said abruptly, making Carlos jump, "have any of you ever studied the T-virus? It's actually pretty interesting, because unlike other viruses, its capsid isn't a dome shape. It's more of a sphere, making it even smaller than normal, so it can slip into cells easier. I'm not saying the person who designed it wasn't certifiable, but he – or she – definitely knew how to create a virus that would…" she trailed off as everyone stared at her. "I'm rambling, huh?"

"Yup," Chris said, motioning Barry up to take the other side of the nondescript door they had just found – the fifteenth such door they had come across since leaving the safe room. "It's fine… it's in your profile, you know – tends to be, how did they put it? 'Overly verbose when subjected to extremely adverse conditions.'"

"Heh," Carlos chuckled as Chris and Barry prepared to open the door, "Sorry, _chica_, it _is_ kind of interesting. I'm just not feeling up to snuff… bad case of lead poisoning, ya know?"

Rebecca nodded as he pointed to the bandage on his shoulder. "Right," she said weakly. "I guess you wouldn't care that much about this stuff right now."

Carlos patted her on the shoulder, lifting his rifle in spite of his injury and moving to back up his teammates. "Tell me more when we're in Cancun."

"Cancun?" Billy wondered, arching an eyebrow as he slipped down on one knee and covered the door- making it so four barrels were trained on the thick metal. "What makes you think she'd go there with you, _hombre?_"

Carlos braced the rifle against his wounded shoulder, grimacing a bit as he countered, "Not just her and me, dumbass – I mean the whole team. My treat. After this… I'm taking some goddamn time off."

Billy nodded, turning his attention on the door as Chris touched a finger to his lips and reached for the doorknob. "Now you're talking," he mumbled, tightening his grip on his pistol.

Everyone fell silent as the door creaked open, showing a large, unoccupied lab.

Chris held up a hand, indicating that everyone should hold their position – not that anyone was keen on hurrying in. They had all been in enough Umbrella labs to know that you never move in without checking every surface and doorway for something shambling or creeping their way.

This time, it was a single lab worker – clearly a carrier – lurching out of the shadows and heading towards them with a hungry groan.

"Are you kidding me?" Chris muttered, scanning the room for a moment. "One zombie? Hey Burton… is it worth the bullet?"

Barry surveyed the scene, ignoring the advancing zombie as if it wasn't even there. "Computers are all busted up… no paperwork lying around… vials are all spilled…" he mumbled, cataloguing the contents of the room for a moment before shaking his head. "I wouldn't," he concluded. "Too many unknown factors to waste a round on something like this."

Shrugging, Chris pulled the door shut. "It even locks from the outside," he muttered disgustedly, "I've never seen a carrier open a door, but still – better safe than so-"

As the door clicked shut, half of the wall on the opposite side of the wide corridor snapped open and four of the creatures Umbrella had dubbed 'hunters' exploded from the narrow opening, howling with bloodlust as they shot towards the group, claws raised to strike.

In the few seconds before they reached the team, Rebecca distinctly heard Chris groan, "Oh come on…!"

It wasn't much of a fight, really. Even hunters, as resilient and agile as they were, could not withstand the concentrated firepower of over a half dozen trained combat personnel in an enclosed space, though one of them did get close enough to take a swipe at Barry before the man's magnum relieved it of its head.

The other three tried to capitalize on their speed, bouncing off the walls as they approached and uttering their piercing, inhuman screams every inch of the way… but it was futile. The S.T.A.R.S. members, each familiar by that point with this type of beast, anticipated their moves so well it was almost comical, and through training and consistent team work, paid enough attention to each other's aim well enough to all focus their fire on a single creature, pumping it full of lead before moving on to the next.

All told, it took less than fifteen seconds to annhiliate the hunters.

"Well that was exhilarating," Chris mumbled, checking his clip to see how many rounds he had spent. "Chambers… damage control."

As the last echoes of the gunfire faded away, Rebecca immediately checked the wounded members of the group. "Bleeding through," she muttered, examining first Leon's hand, then Carlos' shoulder, "and… bleeding through. If this was a non-combat situation, my medical advice would be to stop using your weapons immediately… but as it stands, my advice is 'don't die.'"

"Comforting, doc," Claire mumbled, rubbing absently at her eye as she looked down at the hunters. "Damn it… not now…"

Rebecca gave her a sharp look, and to her horror found that the same, black scaling she had seen in the jeep was just barely visible under Claire's eye. "Claire," she said lightly, "come over here a second, I wanna ask you something." As soon as the other girl was out of the other's hearing rang, Rebecca whispered, "You need to take your medicine… I'll cover for you while you're doing it – but hurry before someone sees."

Claire nodded, reaching into her belt pouch. "Thanks," she muttered, covering her eye with her free hand. "Must be something in the air down here… it usually takes a day or so before I… oh my god…!"

Glancing down, Rebecca drew in a sharp gasp.

In Claire's hand sat the shattered remains of five medical syringes, victims, it seemed, of some massive impact.

"What happened?" Rebecca breathed.

Staring at the fragments, Claire whispered, "When the room fell… that thing jumped over me to get to Leon. My pack was on the floor then, so it must have… must have stepped on it."

"How long?" Rebecca whispered urgently. "How long before it's… too late?"

"The longest I've gone without a treatment was eight hours after the symptoms started," Claire said numbly. "But it starts to get bad after three… and after six, I can't move."

Rebecca forced a smile. "Well, in five it won't matter," she said softly. "Chris knows, right?"

Claire nodded. "Yeah, but none of the others do."

"We'll have to tell them…"

Swallowing hard, Chris' younger sister whispered, "I know, but… can you give me a second?"

"Sure," Rebecca said. "Umm… you _do_ have more medicine, right?"

Claire gave her a rueful smile. "In the jeep, yeah."

Impulsively, Rebecca put her arms around Claire and gave her a tentative hug.

"We'll get you there."

Surprised, Claire pulled away, blushing faintly as she mumbled, "Y-yeah, sure."

Rebecca leaned against the wall as the younger Redfield straightened her back and approached the other team members. _At least be subtle,_ Rebecca thought hopefully.

"I'm infected."

_...or not._

"It's not T," Rebecca said quickly, pushing away from the wall as everyone stared at Claire with open horror. "She has medicine to control it, we just need to get her to where it is, ok?"

"Chris," Barry rumbled. "You knew, didn't you? I can see it on your face."

"Eh, doesn't matter," Billy interjected before Chris could say a word. "It's not like we would have just popped her if we'd known sooner, is it? 'Becca says there's medicine for it, that's good enough for me… right?"

Carlos, Barry, and Leon exchanged doubtful glances, but ultimately nodded, unable to meet Claire's eyes as they all mumbled that it was good enough for them too.

"Great, it's settled then! Let's get moving, huh?"

As the group took its formation once more, Rebecca caught Billy's hand. "Thanks," she whispered. "I owe you… what, five now?"

Billy shrugged. "It's no big deal," he said evenly. "Just wanted to keep things from getting out of hand… that Olivera guy was touching his gun, ya know?" Looking at Rebecca from the corner of his eye, he added, "I like his idea about Cancun, though. Sure wouldn't mind seeing you in a bathing suit again."

"Billy!" Rebecca exclaimed. "S-stop that… I told you, that's-"

"Ancient history," Billy cut in, "yeah, that's what you said… but right now, I need something to look forward to, and whether you like it or not, that something is you in a bikini." He moved a little closer, slipping a hand around to the small of her back as he whispered, "Actually, what I'm picturing involves less than that, but I'm willing to start at the beginning again, if it's you I'm starting with."

Rebecca looked around, finding the other members of the team all studiously staring the other way. "Billy," she said slowly, "it's… not now, ok?"

Billy frowned. "No, not ok," he said bluntly. "I'm not asking for anything, Rebecca, I'm just telling you what I want – and what I want is you, end of story. Now what you do with that info is up to you, but I'm not letting you leave here thinking that I ever wanted to break it off, got it? That was all you… and I want you to reconsider."

Stepping away from her, gave her a piercing stare, forcing her to avert her eyes before he turned to rejoin the group.

"Think about it."

Trying her hardest to remember all the reasons she _had_ broken things off with him, Rebecca simply whispered, "I will."

( 0 0 0 )

Making their way through the next seven levels of the labyrinthine complex gave Rebecca plenty of time to get her head back into the game – especially considering that every third or fourth door the team opened spewed out hoards of zombies, cerebuses, hunters, and various mutated animals and plants until, by the time they had reached the stairs going up to the next level, there was nothing _too_ think about besides surviving.

"Ok," Chris told them as they stopped to catch their breath, "we're at the halfway mark – eight floors to go."

"If Wesker wasn't lying," Leon pointed out, flexing his throbbing hand. "Do you really think they'll let us out of here alive?"

Chris shook his head. "Nope," he admitted. "I never believed that for a second, which is why we need to get to the ground floor… and kill them both before we let the self-destruct do its job. It's the only way to be sure."

"Provided we _can_ kill them," Barry observed, stroking his beard as the others turned to him. "They move faster than any of us. The only way I see us having a chance is either catching them off guard – which seems unlikely, since they're probably listening to us right now – or outflanking them, which seems just as unlikely if they know we're gunning for them."

"Oh, I want them to know," Chris said evenly. "That way, when I put a bullet through Wesker's forehead, I won't have to worry about him wondering who it was that did it." Turning to Claire, he said, "How are you holding up? You're looking green around the gills… or actually, black around your eye."

Claire gave him a wry smile. "Clever," she muttered. "I'm fine, Chris. I just need my medicine."

"Can we make it?"

"Pardon?"

Chris was looking at Rebecca. "The next level is the main lab, if our map is right," he said smoothly. "If we clear the floor, can you synthesize more of the medicine?"

"If the labs are intact enough, I should be able to," Rebecca said, mildly disappointed that Chris had suggested it. She had come up with the idea some time back, but had planned to wait until they got to the lab before mentioning it herself, as and did not want to give Claire false hope.

"Alright, then let's give it a go," Chris said softly. "If the main lab is clean, we'll mop up the rest of the floor instead of just moving to the next one… that'll give you about thirty minutes to make the medicine. Can you do it?"

Rebecca wet her lips. "I was the youngest biochemist to graduate John's Hopkins in fifteen years," she said carefully, "but that's pushing it… can you give me forty?"

Chris arched an eyebrow.

"Do you want to live to see her use it?"

"I'll make it in twenty-five."

"Outstanding. Let's move out."

_Smart, Chambers,_ Rebecca berated herself. _Time is the one thing we don't have… and I'll bet if it was anyone besides your sister, we'd be moving right along, Redfield._

Keeping this unfair thought to herself, Rebecca followed the others up the stairs and through a short hallway into the main lab. As luck would have it, the lab was fairly well maintained, with only three exits, one on each side of the lab, plus the door they had come through, which was located in the middle, and considering everything they had just killed, it seemed unlikely that anything would be attacking them from that angle.

"Ok troops," Chris said briskly as Claire grabbed a notepad and began to write down her medicine's chemical composition, "one of you stay with Rebecca while she works… the rest of you, divide into teams and start cleaning house. I don't want to just wait here and get ambushed by every hostile on this level that's looking for a free lunch."

Rebecca knew that splitting up was a bad idea, but with two unchecked doors, having all of the team go through one was an even worse concept. "Leave me Carlos," she said, giving the man a quick once-over, "he doesn't look like he'll do you much good, but he knows how to handle a gun in case something _does_ happen back here."

"I'm fine," Carlos protested, "just… my damn shoulder is killing me. I've had worse, Redfield… I'll be alright."

"Then you'll be alright staying here," Chris countered smoothly. "I've seen Rebecca when she works, and she gets pretty into it… so she'll need someone good to cover her back."

Carlos rolled his eyes. "Aww, don't blow sunshine up my ass, man," he said disgustedly. "Just make it an order and get out."

Chris chuckled. "Fine, it's an order then. Claire, you and Leon are with me on this side… Barry, you and Billy take the left. Move out." As the team began to break up, Chris murmured, "You know why it's you doing this and not her, right?"

Rebecca nodded. "Yeah," she replied softly, "she's hiding it pretty well, but she's already in bad shape. If she bumps into a vial of cyanide because she got a fit of the shakes or something, we'd all be screwed."

"Eloquently put," Chris said dryly.

Giving him a nervous smile, Rebecca muttered, "It's in my profile too… high stress makes me chatty and blunt."

"Good point. Ok, I'm out."

Nodding as Chris left the room, Rebecca moved to a set of test tubes, selecting one at random and scanning the assorted chemicals to ensure that everything she needed was present and undamaged.

"You wanna tell me about viruses now, _chica_?" Carlos asked, trying not to let his discomfort show as he eased his rifle off of his shoulder and set it within easy reach.

"Nah," Rebecca replied, reaching into her belt pouch and pulling out the syringe she had taken from Claire back in the jeep. "I'll be too involved with this… just make sure nothing eats me."

"I'll do my best," Carlos said with a wink. "But I gotta say you _do_ look pretty appetizing."

Rebecca blushed.

"Stop saying stuff like that or I'll tell Jill," she warned, starting to gather up ingredients.

"Oh, she knows I like 'em young," Carlos countered dryly, raising his hands as Rebecca nearly dropped her test tube. "Hey, don't get all worked up, I'm just teasing."

"Can you stop?" Rebecca wondered. "This is kind of complicated…"

"Sorry."

Rebecca just nodded.

_Ok,_ she thought, tuning Carlos' presence out and focusing on her work. _This is kind of a complicated formula. No offense to Claire, but I doubt she came up with this on her own… Hell, I doubt I could have without a lot more equipment than this. I guess she had to memorize it, though, because if she was ever cut off from whoever makes it for her normally – like she is now – she'd have to know how to make it herself or…_

Letting the thought go, Rebecca grabbed another test tube and squirted the few drops of the medicine that were left in the syringe into it. It would be easier to know if she was successful in replicating it if she had an original sample to compare it to.

_I WAS going to work on a cure,_ she thought, selecting ingredients as Carlos scratched absently at his shoulder and muttered something about it being hot in the lab. _With enough time in a lab like this, I think I could pull it off – I am a virologist, after all._

After that, Rebecca was in the zone, her movements becoming faster and surer as she combined and stirred components. Twenty-five minutes was a pretty bold estimate, even with a formula, since chemistry at this level was not child's play, and after fifteen minutes, Rebecca had produced two batches of glop that was most likely toxic to the virus… but it would also kill anything else it came in contact with.

_Damn it, this is hard,_ she thought, wiping sweat from her brow as the sound of a few distant gunshots reached her ears. _Sodium pentothal… little bit of chlorine… a few tweaks and this could either be a truth serum, or poison gas. And I have to make it a cure. God, give me more time!_

Considering her tension level, it was no surprise that Rebecca started talking.

"The structure of this drug is pretty unique," she murmured under her breath. "Almost crystalline, almost solid… I can't even imagine how someone would come up with something like this."

Carlos gave a noncommittal, "Mm," by way of reply.

"Sorry," Rebecca yawned, biting her lip as she carefully added a pinch of sulfur. "I know this kind of stuff bores you, so just ignore me, ok? It relaxes me to talk."

"Mm hmm…"

Rebecca stirred her mixture looking at it critically as she sighed, "This batch isn't looking too good, Carlos… I think after the next one, we're just going to have to call it quits…"

"Ah…"

"If it does, though," she ventured, "and if there's time… I could look at your shoulder again – there's enough forceps in this place to pull out every splinter in Arkalay, so I'm sure one bullet wouldn't be a pro-"

"Uh…"

Rebecca frowned. "What is it?"

"Uh…hhhhnnn…"

A shiver ran down Rebecca's spine.

"Carlos," she whispered. "Carlos, get your gun… there's a zombie nearby, I can hear it."

Looking to her left, she tried to decide which way the groan had come from. _Maybe he saw it already,_ she reasoned. _That would explain why he's been so quiet… but he wouldn't use me as bait just to get a better shot, would he? That's just low! I mean, I know we're low on ammo, but-_

"Unnnnnnnhhh…!"

Rebecca's blood ran cold.

"No," she breathed, "oh God, no…!"

Slowly, she turned to her right… and found herself less than a foot from Carlos. She barely had time to scream before the man that had been her teammate lunged towards her, his eyes shining with hunger as the bandage that had covered his wound fell to the floor with a wet slap, torn loose by the incessant scratching that Rebecca had been too busy to notice.

As she went down, Rebecca's head cracked sharply on the edge of the large table she had been working on, knocking her instantly unconscious and ensuring that she never saw Carlos' teeth descending towards her defenseless throat.

Continued…

Author's notes: playing Zero gave me the inspiration to pound out another chapter, but I don't know if any more will be forthcoming. I hate leaving stories incomplete, but between my lack of motivation, and the lack of readership, it's tough to get this one done.

I asked MacBeth2001 to pre-read on this chapter, since he knows RE pretty well and happens to be one of the 3 people to ask if I was continuing it. I guess the answer is yes, man… at least for one more chapter…


	9. Unpleasant Conclusions

Disclaimer: see part 1 for disclaimer.

The More Things Change…

By Random1377

Part 9 – Unpleasant Conclusions

"Rebecca!"

Billy was the first on the scene, bursting into the room less than a minute after hearing Rebecca's desperate scream and immediately leveling his assault rifle at Carlos' back.

_Damn it,_ he thought, rushing forward instead of pilling the trigger, _might hit… her…_

He slowed as he got closer to the two S.T.A.R.S. members, not because he was any less anxious to save Rebecca, but because it seemed that someone already had. Crouching down, he studied the scene, shivering all over as he kept reminding himself that Rebecca could still be dead – or worse, infected – but managing to contain his nerves as he looked at the situation from every angle.

From the left, he could see that Rebecca had hit her head on the edge of the desk and was bleeding onto the floor, though it did not seem to be a fatal wound… or rather, if it was, it was too late to save her, and if she was still alive, moving her without checking the wound first could potentially kill her.

Moving around to the right, he confirmed that the small red spot on the opposite side of Carlos' head was, in fact, a bullet hole… and that a quarter of his skull had been blown away by the round that had done him in.

Billy had seen enough of the walking dead to tell both from Carlos' eyes and his slack, gaping jaw that he had been infected, though when, he could not say. _When I shot him,_ he thought suddenly. _Damn it_, _he had an open wound and we killed that monster practically on top of him. We were so worried about Rebecca's back we didn't even check his shoulder… and all it takes is one drop. Son of a bitch – WE killed him!_

Rolling the dead man onto his back confirmed this assessment, revealing his wound to be dry and devoid of blood as the hungry T-virus busily killed off the flesh at the entry site.

Abruptly, Billy rose to his feet, looking wildly around the room as the most obvious question flashed through his mind.

_Who killed him?_

"Billy what… oh my God."

Billy barely noticed as Chris came into the room, rushing immediately to Rebecca's side and hoisting her into his arms.

"Olivera?"

Nodding, Billy continued to look for the shooter. "Infected," he mumbled, "must've happened in the fight."

Chris winced, laying the woman on the table and rolling her onto her side to examine the cut on the back of her scalp. "Call the others back," he said grimly, "this cut looks shallow, but it's bleeding pretty good… let's hope none of his blood got into the wound."

"I don't think it did," Billy said softly. "First thing the virus does is stop the heart and keep the blood from moving to the brain – that's what kills you. He was dying when we left them alone, man. Besides… someone pushed him off of her as soon as he was dead."

Looking up sharply, Chris echoed, "Someone? You mean you didn't kill him?"

Billy narrowed his eyes and gave the room a final once over. "No," he said finally, "I heard her scream, and I came running… but I would have been too late. She was out like a light, so he could have taken as many chunks out of her as he wanted before I got a round off – no, someone else took him. From the hole, I'd say it was a nine that caught him. One round to the temple, pretty far away. A marksman."

Chris pulled a compress out of Rebecca's backpack, pressing it firmly against her head as he considered this. "Any of us would have stuck around," he said slowly. "Wesker, maybe?"

"Why?" Billy wondered. "He would have watched Olivera help himself to a meal."

"I don't know," Chris admitted. "Maybe to keep the game interesting? He's a sick bastard. Ahh, I'm just grasping at straws. Otherwise, I-"

Abruptly, he cut himself off, looking down to Carlos, then around the perimeter of the room. Billy followed his line of sight, but could not make heads or tails of what the other man was looking for.

"Let's go," Chris said softly, "you carry her… it would be better if she saw your face when she woke up, you know? You guys used to have a thing."

"Whoa!" Billy said. "We're just… leaving? Just like that?"

Chris shrugged. "Don't have time to stick around," he said evenly. "Olivera's down, and that sucks, but we have _got_ to keep moving or we'll _all_ be joining him. Look at this from a tactical point of view, Billy – we're down one gun, one set of shoulders for carrying things, and one more smile… if we don't keep going, we'll be down seven more, and that's unacceptable."

Billy averted his eyes, nodding as he crouched down and lifted Jill's bag of thieving equipment from where Carlos had set it down. "I know you're right," he said slowly, shouldering the bag and walking to where Rebecca was sprawled on the table, "but I still hate your ass for this."

"Yeah, well, that's your right," Chris mumbled, looking at the batch of medicine Rebecca had been working on. "Ruined," he whispered, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "God, we have _got_ to hurry…"

( 0 0 0 )

The human mind is a funny thing. A blow to the head can yield such varied results as loss of memory to multiple personalities to long and short term comas. Sometimes, in the later case, the victim's mind 'pauses' at the moment of the injury, freezing all signals to muscles and vocal cords, then resuming them once the coma has come to an end as if nothing had happened.

Rebecca woke screaming, her entire body reacting to her final conscious thought of 'run!' as her legs and arms scrambled in every direction. "No!" she shrieked, her eyes wide and staring as Carlos' face loomed out of the darkness. "No, please, I-"

"Easy," a voice commanded, accompanied by strong hands capturing her wrists, "easy, Chambers… a few inches to the left and I'd be adopting."

"Billy?" Rebecca asked, blinking in confusion as the man nodded down at her and let her go. "_Billy_!"

Billy fell back on his ass as the woman threw her arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest as she shook from head to toe.

"Carlos!" she gasped. "C-carrier… he was-"

"We know," Billy interrupted. "He's… been taken care of."

Rebecca sobbed harder, holding him with all of her strength as he lifted her into his arms. Once she had gotten herself under control, she looked around, finding that the group was holed up in a small conference room.

"What… what floor?" she managed, blushing as she avoided meeting anyone's eyes.

"Seventh," Billy informed her with a certain sense of pride. "We've had a few scrapes, but nothing too bad."

Glancing to her left, Rebecca found that the table in the conference room was occupied by a very sick looking Claire Redfield. Her body was covered in sweat, and the patch of black scales under her eye had spread to cover a third of her cheek. Rebecca noticed with dawning horror that the young woman was rasping in her sleep, as if her throat was constricting, or, possibly… restructuring.

"How long do we have?"

Chris checked his watch in response to Rebecca's question. "Hour and a half," he replied grimly. "But that's for the game. For Claire, I don't know."

"We've rested long enough," Leon said softly, and when Rebecca looked at him, she was relieved to see that he had gotten a hold of himself. "There's medicine in the Jeep, right? Let's just get the hell out of here."

"Agreed," Chris said firmly. "Jill…" he paused, and Rebecca had the oddest feeling that he had been on the verge of saying something other than, "will find us, somehow, even if-"

As if on cue, the door to the room they were hiding in opened… and Jill stepped in.

"Made it," she panted, wiping sweat from her brow and looking back over her shoulder as the other S.T.A.R.S. gaped at her. "Man, you guys weren't easy to find! I had to get away from Wesker, sneak through floor after floor of monsters, and nearly get stuck in a heat vent to find you! Thank god you guys leave a trail of bodies wherever you go!"

Rebecca offered the woman a tentative smile, taking in the various scrapes and cuts she had gathered in her lonely journey to meet them. "That sneaksuit's worth the money we spent on it, huh?" she joked, smiling at Chris as he glanced down at his shoulder, and frowned as if someone had just told him something he did not want to hear. "Almost looks brand new."

Jill grinned, patting herself on the chest. "Saved my ass more than once out there. They really know how to-"

In the span of a heartbeat, Chris had raised his gun… and put two rounds through the middle of the blonde's forehead.

The smile froze on Jill's face, and she teetered on her feet, her right hand twitching randomly as she staggered forward two steps, her eyes wide and sightless as she let out a weak groan. Pursing his lips, Chris fired off four more rounds, sending Jill's body to the floor in a crumpled heap and nodding to himself as a soft sigh escaped her bloodied lips.

Just for good measure, he walked up to the body and emptied the remainder of his clip into the temple, ignoring the looks of horror on his teammates faces as he ejected the spent clip and popped in a fresh one.

"Come on," he said evenly. "We need to get out of here… and from now on, no more splitting up – if we need to check something out, we do it in twos, just like we have been. I don't want this to happen again."

"What?" Billy demanded. "Don't want _what_ to happen again?"

Chris met the man's eyes. "This isn't Jill," he said simply, toeing the body with the edge of his boot. "It looks like her, it talks like her, hell, it probably smells like her… but it isn't her."

"How do you know?" Barry wanted to know. "I've known Jill as long as you have – how do you know you didn't just murder her?"

Putting a hand on Barry's shoulder, Chris murmured, "I shared her bed for five years, Barry. I know more about Jill Valentine than any man alive, and this," he lifted his chin towards the body on the floor, "isn't her."

"Then what is it?" Leon wondered, crouching by 'Jill's' body. "Is it… like that thing we fought in the elevator?"

"That's my guess," Chris said. "The other one didn't talk, but maybe it was an outdated model or something."

The others contemplated this idea, realizing all that it implied, and abruptly, everyone was looking around, frowning faintly as they surveyed their teammates, thoughts running in identical patterns.

_How long was he investigating that room a couple floors back?_

_Did anyone SEE her get attacked by Olivera?_

_Any one of them could be one of those things and I wouldn't know it until it was too late…_

"Hey," Chris said suddenly, pulling out his knife and laying it across his palm. "I trust each and every one of you."

So saying, he sliced his hand, opening a shallow gash and offering it out to the group.

"I have no problem with sharing my blood with any of you, or with having your blood in me. Anyone who doesn't feel the same better put a bullet through my brain, because I will _not_ spend the next – possible the last – hour and a half of my life looking over my shoulder to see if any of you are growing fangs and getting ready to rip my guts out. In or out, kids – blood for blood… right now."

Without a word, Barry took Chris's knife, cutting his hand and slapping his palm against Chris's. "I trust you, Redfield," he said, his voice shaking a bit as their blood mingled and flowed together. "It'll probably get me killed, but I trust you."

One by one, the others followed suit, until every member of the group had a bit of the others' blood in his or her veins.

"There," Chris said decisively, wrapping a bandage around his hand. "Now if any of you _is_ a monster… you won't have to worry about killing us, because we're all infected."

"I thought you said you trusted us," Leon said dryly.

Chris shrugged. "I do," he said simply. "So if I'm wrong, I'll die a horribly painful death, and I'll see you all in Heaven."

"Great…"

"This is good," Rebecca said suddenly. "Hey… hey everyone has gloves, right?" Everyone nodded, quickly picking up on her train of thought. "You guys swept the room for cameras and bugs, right?" she asked, waiting for Billy to nod before explaining, "Only we know about these cuts… so if we ever do get separated, we'll know to check each other's hands when we meet up."

Once everyone had their gloves on, the group moved to the door.

"Hey," Barry said suddenly. "How will we know if we meet the real Jill? She won't have a cut on her hand."

"I'll know," Chris said confidently, scooping his sister into his arms. "Trust me, I'll know."

"And if you're not with us…?"

Chris hesitated, hoisting Claire into a more comfortable position before offering Barry a wry grin and muttering, "You'll know."

( 0 0 0 )

As the troop moved through the sixth floor, Rebecca casually slid up at Billy's side. "Hey," she whispered, "I'm… something's wrong."

"Something?" Billy snorted. "Honey, there's a _lot_ wrong in this dump."

"With Claire."

Billy frowned, nodding to Chris as he asked if the room Billy was checking was clear. "Other than the freaky virus thing eating her face?"

Rebecca wet her lips, leaning a bit closer as she said, "Claire told me that when she has an attack it starts to get really bad for her after three hours, and after six, she can't move."

"Yeah, so?"

Leaning even closer, Rebecca breathed, "We haven't _been_ here six hours, Billy."

Billy looked startled, but Rebecca was not finished.

"I've been checking her as we moved," she explained. "We've been out of that room where the… Jill-thing was for twenty minutes, and half of Claire's face is covered now. Whatever's happening to her, it's happening faster than ever."

Considering this for a moment, Billy said, "So we have to get her out ASAP… but we knew that already – we all have to get out in, what, an hour and ten minutes now?"

Rebecca took a deep breath.

"I don't think she has an hour and ten minutes," she said bluntly. "We have to get her out in forty minutes. Something about this place… something about this place is making it worse – that's the only thing I can figure. Claire knows her infection better than anyone, and if she says six hours, she's good for six hours… but it's been less than four."

Billy took a surreptitious glance at where Claire was cradled in her brother's arms. "Do we need to take care of her…?"

Biting her lip, Rebecca nodded. "Yeah," she said, lowering her voice so it was for him alone, "in forty-five minutes, if we're not out of here, I'll do it."

"You?" Billy said, giving her a sharp look. "You're going to do it yourself?"

Rebecca looked ill. "It's not like I want to," she said awkwardly. "But the way I figure it, it's going to be a two-part job, and you'll have to do the other part." She looked him squarely in the eye. "You'll have to keep Chris off of me."

"Got it."

Looking at his bandage-wrapped hand, Billy shook his head. "And he was just talking about trust," he whispered. "God, I hate this job."

"This is the way it has to be," Rebecca said grimly, putting her hand on top of his. "We don't know what she'll become… and we can't risk finding out."

"Olivera had it right," Billy muttered. "It's time for a vacation from all this crap… only he had the timing wrong. We should have gone to Cancun instead of coming here."

Nodding, Rebecca retook his hand. "We'll have a drink in his honor," she said, giving Billy's hand a firm squeeze. "_When_ we get there."

"Are you two coming?"

Glancing over Rebecca's shoulder, Billy found that the entire group was waiting at the door leading up to the next level. "Ready?" he whispered, keeping her hand clutched in his.

Rebecca drew her gun with her free hand.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Together, the group moved forward, arriving on the fifth floor with a newfound urgency and determination as each of them promised him or herself that they would make it to the Jeep – and Claire's medicine – before it was too late.

Unfortunately, waiting for them on the fifth level was a nightmare unlike any they could have imagined.

To be concluded.

Notes: originally, this story was going to be much longer, but now it's all I can do to try to finish it at all. Next chapter will be the last, but it will also be the longest, since I have a few threads to tie up before I put this one to bed.

MacBeth2001 pre-read this installment because he had nothing better to do. Actually, he probably had PLENTY better to do, but I talked him into it anyway.


	10. The Last Dance

Disclaimer: see part 1 for disclaimer.

The More Things Change…

By Random1377

Part 10 – The Last Dance

The walking dead: shambling, abhorrent offenses to the natural order of creation. Once human, now unthinking killing machines interested only in feasting on the living flesh of anyone unfortunate enough to get in their way. Chris had dealt with Umbrella's sick experiments for years, but it never failed to amaze him that a corporation would stoop to corrupting life to the point they had.

"Hey Redfield," Billy mumbled, pointing to a huge, cylindrical glass container, "was this a _cat?_"

Chris barely nodded. The entire room they were in was full of similar tubes, all holding misshapen, grotesquely twisted creatures—some recognizable, others simply disturbing in their alien bizarreness. Here, a lizard the size of a small pony. There, a fist-sized spider with floating, iridescent purple hair on it's deformed legs. Everywhere were shapes that were almost human, or almost animal, or sometimes… disturbing mixtures of both.

And against the far wall, carefully avoided by every member of the S.T.A.R.S team, stood the hulking tank of what was, unmistakably, a Tyrant-class creature, complete with two-foot long claws and an obscenely pulsing heart on the outside of its chest.

Barry asked the question that was on everyone's mind.

"You think they're waiting until we turn around to let that thing out?"

Glancing at the tyrant, Chris nodded. "Probably," he said. "Or else they have a whole room full of them waiting for us, and letting us see this one is a trick to make us think this is the worst thing in here."

"Time," Rebecca muttered, "how much time?"

Chris kept his eyes on the Tyrant. "Not enough."

As they moved into the next room, Chris and Leon dragged a rather heavy looking metal bookcase in front of the door. Everyone knew that it wouldn't stop a Tyrant, or even half of the creatures in the prior room, but it might buy them precious seconds as whatever might come through was forced to tear the bookcase apart.

With the way back barred, the team found themselves in a midsized room with a lone door at the opposite end.

_Perfect place for an ambush,_ Chris thought, turning his attention to Rebecca as she held up a syringe full of a rich, amber liquid.

"What's that?"

Rebecca looked proud of herself. "It's the last few drops of Claire's original antidote mixed with a syringe of epinephrine," she said. "I found when I was back in the lab that it bonds pretty well with the eppi, so I figured if push came to shove, I could try using it like a watered down version to try and hold her infection in check long enough for us to get back to the jeep."

Chris nodded approvingly. "Nice job," he said, "let's give it to her on the next floor… I want to hold off as long as we can so-"

"I'm afraid there won't _be_ a next floor for you, Redfield."

The S.T.A.R.S. whirled around as the door on the far side of the room opened… and mirror images of the entire team stepped through, smiling identical, mindless smiles as Wesker and Ada followed them in.

"Figures," Billy grumbled. "I thought things were too easy there for a while. I guess these are the newest 'toys' you want us to test? Bring it on, ugly—we'll kill them like we killed the rest."

"That's what I love about you S.T.A.R.S.," Wesker said jovially. "Your naïveté. Do you think, with our resources, my corporation would need to employ third-rate has-been paramilitaries to test our product? Tsk—that's such an Umbrella mindset." He put a hand on the back of 'Rebecca's' neck. "No, what we want is infinitely more valuable."

"Claire," the real Rebecca breathed suddenly. "You want Claire."

Wesker's smile widened. "Nice to see that some of you actually use that gray matter. I was going to tell everyone why, but I think I'll let Miss Chambers enlighten us."

Rebecca's mind was in overdrive. "T-Veronica," she said, more to herself than anyone else. "It was the most powerful form of the virus…and Claire's the only live carrier."

"Precisely!" Wesker declared. "But it gets better—oh, does it get better! Take a deep breath."

The medic paled. "The air," she groaned. "They've poisoned the air."

Wesker bowed dramatically as the assembled S.T.A.R.S. gaped at their medic. "Saying poison is so… over the top," he said dryly, "and inaccurate as well. For what you're breathing, no other word besides masterpiece will suffice. Think it out, Chambers… I'm enjoying your little epiphanies."

The fake Rebecca smiled unpleasantly, revealing a mouthful of perfect, pearly white teeth.

"If it was just an airborne version of the virus, we'd be infected," Rebecca muttered, her remarkable brain whirling through scenarios as her teammates eyed the HCF employees warily. "And considering how fast Carlos turned, we'd all be zombies by now…"

"We prefer 'carriers,'" Wesker said mockingly, "but please, do go on."

Slowly, Rebecca looked up, staring at the big man with a look of open horror tinged with a hint of awe. "It's an accelerator," she breathed. "You've found a way to speed up the process, so anyone infected turns in a matter of hours!"

Wesker raised his hand, clapping twice as he said, "Bravo. Someone get that girl a gold star."

Rebecca ignored him, her eyes taking on a feverish light as she whispered, "But you can't accelerate a virus too much, or you'll have it reach an overpopulation state and either kill its host, or… die out…"

She raised her wide eyes, looking into Wesker's no longer smiling face.

"…you're almost out of time."

"Enough!" Wesker snapped. "I'm afraid you're the one who's out of time, Chambers."

But Rebecca was already moving.

Spinning on the spot, she brought her right hand up… and drove the syringe full of antidote-laced epinephrine into Claire's chest, jamming the plunger down and delivering half of the stimulant directly into the other woman's heart.

Wesker roared, surging forward with his duplicate S.T.A.R.S. as Claire's eyes shot open and she issued a terrible, reptilian screech.

"Get Down!" Chris shouted, shoving Rebecca out of the way as her own duplicate reached out in a clear bid to snap her neck.

Rebecca stumbled, falling to her knees and fumblingly catching Claire as Billy's clone bowled him over. "Hang on," the medic gasped, lugging the shuddering young woman towards the corner of the room as the fiercest close-in battle she had ever witnessed broke out all around her. "Just hang on!"

The S.T.A.R.S. team put up a tremendous fight. Within moments, the Barry, Leon, and Rebecca clones had been killed, leaving Chris and Billy grappling with theirs as the others desperately sidestepped Wesker's attacks.

Ada, it seemed, was content to simply stand at the exit, impassive witness to the bloodshed as her fellow HCF teammate savagely tried to tear the S.T.A.R.S. apart.

"Aahhhh!"

Rebecca screamed as Wesker caught Barry in a vicious bear hug, his face a leer of triumph as his cable-like arms tightened around the man, crushing inexorably together as Barry's magnum was shaken from his fingers by the terrible struggle, going off as it hit the floor and burying a slug in the wall dangerously close to Claire's head. Brutally, Barry drove his forehead into Wesker's, bloodying himself relentlessly and shattering the blonde man's sunglasses… but it was a useless gesture as a moment later, a sickening crack signaled the surrender of the S.T.A.R.S.'s spine.

"Barrryyyy!"

As the big man fell to the ground, Chris shoved his duplicate away and lowered his shoulder, barreling into Wesker from the side and throwing the bigger man into the wall. Ignoring all else, the S.T.A.R.S. leader pounded his former commander as hard as he could, landing a series of punishing blows to the man's head before seizing his hair and ramming his face into the wall with all of his might.

For a moment, it seemed to Rebecca that it might be enough… until she recalled just what Wesker had become.

"_Enough!_" the man shouted, his cry covering the loud snap as Leon broke his duplicate's neck.

Throwing his elbow back over his shoulder, Wesker caught Chris in the jaw, sending him flying back into his own clone and knocking it to the ground. Catlike, the big blonde man spun around, charging forward and crushing the skull of the unfortunate duplicate of Chris, leaving only Billy's as the man caught Chris around the throat and hoisted him off of the floor, holding him up in the air and positioning him between Wesker and the remaining S.T.A.R.S., ensuring that none of them could hit him without hitting Chris first.

"Redfield," Wesker ground out. "I'm going to enjoy this."

"Me too."

From nowhere—almost literally—Barry's magnum boomed three times, catching Wesker completely off guard and severing his arm at the elbow as two of the rounds tore into it. The third plowed into his chest, knocking him back against the wall as a thick stream of blood immediately began to pour from the wound.

For a moment, nobody moved but Chris (choking and trying to catch his breath) and Claire (still agonizingly thrashing in Rebecca's careful embrace).

Taking advantage of the lull, Billy lashed out, catching his duplicate in the throat and crushing its windpipe. As it fell to the ground and began to choke on its own blood, Billy summed up the question on everyone's mind.

"What the hell was that?"

Wesker, in spite of being down one arm and sporting a magnum-sized hole in his chest, seemed remarkably collected as he said, "It seems Miss Valentine has decided to grace us with her pres-"

It was only his superhuman reflexes that saved him from having the last round from Barry's gun delivered between his eyes.

The gun fell to the floor with a clatter, seemingly discarded by… nothing.

Ignoring the other S.T.A.R.S., Wesker appeared to be looking everywhere at once, nostrils flaring as his cold, hateful eyes swept the room. "You're wasting my time," he said after a moment of silence. "Everyone in this room is going to die besides me, so you might as well show yourself and save us all the time and drama of me killing your friends one by one in front of your eyes."

When there was no reply, Wesker stooped down and picked up his severed arm, holding it up against the oozing stump until—miraculously—it seemed to take hold, hanging by a few tendons as the biohazard inside of him went about the task of reconnecting the damaged tissue.

"You see, Miss Valentine," he said conversationally, his eyes gleaming as the slug in his chest slowly worked its way back out, "you can't kill me. It's only a matter of time before I get my hands on your scrawny little ass—and believe me, when I do… it won't be like the last time, when I offered you a quick death. Who knows? Maybe when I'm done with you, you might even end up with a bouncing baby fre-"

Wesker was cut off once more as Ada abruptly went stock still, her eyes wide with shock as Jill shimmered into existence behind her. The shock, it seemed, came from the feeling of the combat knife that had, until a few moments prior, been in Chris's boot… and was now buried up to the hilt in the back of her neck.

Looking unimpressed, Wesker said, "Oh come now, Miss Valentine, you know that won't kill her. What did you do, cut her spinal column? It'll just grow back, and then she'll tear you limb from limb."

Jill shook her head, keeping the sneaksuit mask in place in case she needed to vanish again. "It'll take her a few minutes," she muttered. "But the way I figure it, she's too valuable for you to just let her die, so-"

It was Jill's turn to be cut off.

"You figured wrong."

Whipping out his own knife, Wesker flung it at Ada, clearly intending to remove the last obstacle between himself and Jill… but no one—literally no one—could have predicted what happened next, as Leon dove into the way, taking the blade in the chest and going down without a single sound, his eyes rolling closed as he hit the floor and lay completely still.

Everyone stared at him for a moment as if waiting for him to pop back up with the knife held triumphantly in his hands, but as the seconds ticked on, it became clear that Leon S. Kennedy was dead… or at least, well on his way.

"Huh," Wesker mused. "I have to admit I didn't see that coming."

To the shock of all those present, Rebecca abruptly yanked the syringe out of Claire's chest and muttered, "Bet this one's a shock, too."

Throwing herself forward, she jammed the needle into the upper half of Wesker's newly reattached arm, pumping the last half of the epinephrine in before the man could understand the risk of letting her go unchecked.

The pain was immediate, and Wesker snarled with agony, his hand flashing out in the blink of an eye and bashing Rebecca's nose in, sending her careening halfway across the room to land in a crumpled, silent heap almost exactly next to Leon.

"Nn! NN!"

Wesker grunted, backing up against the wall as the drugs coursed through his veins. His heart rate tripled, then quadrupled, blood pouring like water from all of his injuries as his body kicked into overdrive.

"Everyone out!" Jill shouted, yanking her blade out of Ada's neck and rushing over to Claire's side. "Billy, get Rebecca! Hurry! Wesker won't be down long!"

Even as she spoke, the HCF man took a staggering step towards her, his eyes burning with rage as he gritted out, "You'll never get out of here alive, Valentine!"

Pursing her lips as she lifted Chris's sister into her arms, Jill muttered, "One of us won't. Chris—let him have it!"

She started for the door as Chris unloaded his rifle into Wesker, replacing the clip twice and burning through half of his ammunition until Wesker was a twitching, bloody mess.

"That won't keep him down," the S.T.A.R.S. leader said. "I need a grenade or an RPG. Let's finish him off, Jill!"

"No time!" Jill shot back. "The clock's running, Chris—we've got to get the hell out of here!"

It hurt—literally HURT—Chris to admit that she was right. He had put at least ten bullets into Wesker's brain… but Wesker wasn't a regular old carrier, as he was so proud of telling everyone. Wesker was different, and unless they did something decisive, Chris knew a few chunks of lead wouldn't be enough to keep him down.

Not that this knowledge stopped him from emptying another clip into him as Billy picked Rebecca up off the floor and started to follow Jill.

"Be seeing you," Chris muttered, pausing to spit on Wesker's body before turning to Leon.

As he took a step towards him, however, Ada abruptly rose to her feet.

"Stop," she snapped, holding up one hand as Chris brought his rifle up to bear. "There's nothing you can do for him now. Just go."

Glancing down at Leon, Chris muttered, "As if that would ever happen. Out of the way, Wong."

Ada shook her head, slowly backing up until she was standing in front of Leon's body. "There's nothing you can do for him," she repeated, holding Chris's gaze with her eyes as Billy and Jill (each holding one of their fallen teammates) looked helplessly on. "If you take him, he will be dead before you reach the next floor. Technically… he already is."

Chris colored with rage. "Shut the f-"

"If you leave him," Ada cut in quietly, "I can save him."

"Turn him into a freak, you mean!" Jill snapped. "What kind of life is that?"

Ignoring Jill, Ada focused on Chris and whispered, "Does it matter what kind of life it is if it _is_ life, Redfield? After the events of today, I… have no more allegiance with HCF. I will not associate with backstabbers, regardless of what they have done for me in the past. Betrayal is betrayal, and I won't stand for it."

"Big words coming from a spy," Chris countered, looking down at Leon in dismay and taking stock of just how much blood was pooled around the fallen man. "Why do I have _any_ reason to trust you?"

Behind him, Wesker twitched and groaned, bullets working out of his body at an incredible rate as Ada said, "You don't, and I don't care… but your friend is dead, and there's nothing you can do to change that… other than leave him to me."

Chris didn't have time to ask why, nor did he really need to. Considering everything Leon had told him, there was some kind of connection between him and the Asian woman—or had been, when he was alive… and that train of thought led him back to the fact that Leon _was_ dead. Even from where he stood, he could tell that the man was not breathing, and considering how far they still had to go, he estimated that Leon had an absolute zero percent chance of making a recovery if they took his body with them.

"They'll hunt you."

Jill's mouth fell open in shock. "Chris!" she blurted. "You can't honestly be thinking of-"

"I know," Ada murmured, ignoring Jill entirely. "He's worth it, Redfield. Since this entire project began, my only thought was how I could be with him again. Please go now… and let me do what I must."

Shaking her head vehemently, Jill said, "No, Chris, don't listen to her! Death is better than being one of those things—even one like her! Leon wouldn't want this. Chris, please, _listen to me!_"

Chris ignored her, staring deeply into Ada's eyes as the precious seconds continued to tick away.

"Let's go."

"_Chris!"_

Jill nearly dropped Claire in her outrage as Chris turned away from Ada and jogged to the door, but the S.T.A.R.S. leader kept his eyes facing forward, muttering, "Time check," as he passed her, leaving Leon's body in Ada's care as he made the decision that Jill could never have made.

The decision to let a teammate live.

( 0 0 0 )

Reaching the surface was an experience in nail-biting tension and heart-stopping scares. With two teammates incapacitated, and another two carrying them, the S.T.A.R.S. only had one gun to work with. Fortunately, that gun was in Chris's hands, and the remaining floors were largely populated with type 1 carriers… and Chris was a professional at taking care of them.

They reached the jeep with ten minutes to spare, their tires churning up dirt in huge plumes as they raced away from the complex.

None of them looked back as the explosive charges went off.

"Rebecca needs to get to a doctor," Chris said when they were several miles away from the smoking remains. "Her nose is broken and she's probably got a concussion. Wesker hit her pretty damn hard."

"We'll get her patched up," Billy said, cradling the woman's head in his lap and gently brushing the bloodied hair off of her face. "Why did that work, though? With Wesker, I mean. Wasn't it just eppi?"

Chris glanced at Jill, but she refused to make eye contact.

"Rebecca could explain it better," he said quietly, "but the way I understand it, Wesker's heart was already kicking out massive amounts of blood, right? Well, whatever he has that passes for blood these days, the stuff that keeps him healed… so the eppi forced it to step up the pace—so much so that it started coming out of any place he had holes in him. Plus there was still some of the antidote Claire used for her… condition mixed in, so I'm sure that messed with him too."

At the mention of Claire, everyone turned to look at her. She had finally stopped convulsing, though her breathing was quick and shallow and her face was flushed an alarming shade of red. Also, while the black scales around her eye had receded drastically, they had not vanished completely, leaving her ultimate fate in question as the S.T.A.R.S. team sped through the night.

"If we ever see Leon again, you know we'll have to kill him, right?"

Billy and Chris glanced at Jill, but her eyes were focused straight ahead, peering out into the night with an unreadable expression.

"I don't think it'll come to that," Chris said uncomfortably. "Ada said-"

Jill snorted, cutting him off. "You're so fucking naïve."

An awkward silence fell as the team continued to drive, and as the lights of the nearest town began to sparkle in this distance, Jill slowly reached back and pulled the sneaksuit's mask over her face.

"Let me out here."

Chris whipped around so fast he nearly lost control of the jeep. "_What_?"

Behind the mask, tears were leaking from Jill's eyes, but her voice was steady as she whispered, "Let me out here, Chris. The mission's over. S.T.A.R.S. is over. I'm over."

Hesitantly, Billy said, "What about the little girl? You know, the one Leon and Claire wanted to save."

"You're as stupid as Chris," Jill replied flatly. "She's probably dead, Cohen. Figure it out—these people don't play by normal rules, you get it? What reason would they have to keep a little girl alive, hmm? To draw us out of hiding? All they need for that is a picture and a rumor and we come running. Besides," she added, her voice shaking, "Leon's dead. Or worse. Now pull over and let me out."

Slowly… Chris did.

"It doesn't have to end like this," he said as Jill swung the door of the jeep open and slipped out. "Jill, it doesn't have to end like this."

Gazing impassively through the mask, Jill said, "You're wrong, Chris. This is the only way it _could_ end."

Without another word, Jill activated the sneaksuit… and was gone.

"What now, chief?" Billy asked, staring out into the night and trying to catch a glimpse of the former thief.

Chris leaned forward, resting his forearms on the steering wheel and letting out a long, deep sigh. "It's like she said," he muttered. "The mission's over. We patch everyone up… and move on."

For a moment, Billy said nothing. Then, quietly, he mumbled, "I don't think what she said was right. Rebecca thinks that Birkin kid is still alive, and Claire does too… so we're gonna keep looking for her."

Nodding, Chris said, "Yeah, when I said move on, I meant move on to the next mission. I won't quit until every last trace of Umbrella and everything they stand for is wiped off the goddamn planet."

"Amen, brother."

Billy and Chris grinned, and slowly, Chris pulled back onto the road.

Three cities later, Billy felt they were far enough away to warrant a stop at the local hospital to get Rebecca examined. Chris said he was going to keep going until he reached a safehouse he knew about where he could get Claire looked at by someone who knew what Umbrella really was and what they did.

She seemed stable enough for the time, and he didn't want to risk any possible contamination by someone who knew nothing about the T-Virus.

As Billy climbed out and hoisted Rebecca gently into his arms, Chris leaned across the seat and rolled down the window, waiting until Billy looked him in the eyes before asking the most important question he could think of.

"Where will I find you when I need you?"

Brushing Rebecca's cheek with his fingertips, a faint smile played across Billy's lips.

"Cancun…"

( 0 0 0 )

Six months later, Elizabeth Corazón opened the front door to her office and stepped inside, scooping up a small stack of mail left over from the long holiday weekend and tossing it absently on her desk. Slipping her keys into her pocket, she ran a hand through her brassy red hair and wondered if it was time to cut it short again or let it grow out.

"Probably let it grow," she sighed, disheartened that she was talking to herself again.

Her nose was a little smaller, and her chin stuck out a bit more, but the scars were minimal thanks to her choice of plastic surgeon—and she was even starting to get used to seeing the green contacts in the mirror.

All in all, she decided that she was looking pretty good for a woman on the run… though she honestly had no idea who she was running from anymore, since HCF stock took a significant dip following the 'unexplained' explosion at one of their larger research facilities in Wyoming.

Elizabeth thought it couldn't have happened to a nicer bunch of shareholders.

_Wesker's still out there,_ she mused, kicking back in her desk chair and lacing her hands behind her neck to stare up at the ceiling. _He won't stop—EVER. Chris was right… we should have finished the job when we had him down and out, but we just didn't have the time to go scrounging up high explosives with so many of us down._

Closing her eyes, she let the names run through her mind. Barry… Leon… Carlos… and for all she knew, Rebecca and Claire, too. Sure they were still breathing when she left them, but one was infected with a nasty virus that was running wild in her bloodstream (wilder thanks to the shot Rebecca gave her) and the other was comatose due to a massive head trauma delivered by the aforementioned former S.T.A.R.S. commander.

It had taken three months to forgive Chris for his decision to leave Leon with Ada. It had taken another two to forgive herself for Carlos. If she closed her eyes, she could still see him lowering his jaws to Rebecca's throat, and with enough concentration she could feel the pistol kick in her hands as she put a carefully placed bullet through what had until only minutes before been one of her best friends' brain.

_I should have left him when Claire pulled up that day,_ she told herself, indulging in a little self-pity as she rocked her chair slowly back and forth. _Sorry, Carlos… I guess it just doesn't pay to be my friend._

She heaved another sigh as the phone on her desk began to ring. "Corazón chocolates," she said with forced lightness, "how can I help you?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then an unfamiliar voice said, "I've got a friend who's lost something. I understand that you might be in the business of recovering lost items. Is that correct…?"

Glancing at the closet where the sneaksuit lay carefully folded and tucked inside a well hidden wall safe, Elizabeth murmured, "It might be."

"I'll make it worth your time."

"Tell me more."

She grabbed a pen as the woman on the other end of the line collected her thoughts. "I'd like a face-to-face," she said finally. "I like to know who I'm giving my money to."

Elizabeth nodded. This was a fairly standard request, and while she usually tried to deflect it by pointing out that she worked best under anonymity, she was in the mood to get out of the office and catch some fresh air.

"Where and when?"

"Half an hour," the woman on the other end of the phone said. "Bring all of your tools… I'd like you to start immediately."

"Of course," Elizabeth said smoothly. "Where should we meet?"

There was another moment of silence.

"Downtown. In front of the building that used to be owned by the Umbrella Corporation. I assume you know the place."

Elizabeth froze. "Umbrella…?" she echoed. "Who is this?"

"Half an hour, Miss Corazón," the woman whispered. "I'll meet you there. You'll recognize me. I promise."

With a click, she was gone.

Slowly, Elizabeth set the phone in its cradle and leaned back in her chair, staring at the wall as she considered all the implications of the phone call… and she was shocked to realize just how much she wanted to see them all again. Half of her wanted to just ignore the call, knowing that if she didn't show, they would never call her again, and half of her wished she could fly down to the meeting spot and see them that much faster.

"The more things change, the more they stay the same…"

Staring at the wall for a moment longer, the woman named Elizabeth finally broke out of her trance and grabbed her car keys, stepping out of her office and into the bright afternoon sunlight.

The End

This story was started before I played Resident Evil 4, and I don't have an XBOX 360, so I _can't_ play 5. As such, I only took into account the events of RE0 through Code: Veronica.

For those of you who care, the long break between chapters 9 and 10 reflect the time where I lost interest in writing almost completely. But even during this extended dry spell, I still tinkered with the story every now and then because I really did like it and I hated to see it going dormant for so long.

I have RE4 now, so I might be inspired to write something based on that at some point in the future, but for now, this is all I've got for the proud members of the Special Tactics and Rescue Squad. Jill said it best. This mission's over.

Thanks to Zoro50 for the pre-read. Nice to know at least one person still cared about this one. Hehe

-Random


End file.
